#he just answers that it's an old friend and that's it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

trashytracktales · 20 hours ago

Note

My love….i need some ANGST. Like make me cry….then make me wet 😱😅

IM SORRY ITS BEEN ONR OF THOSE DAYS and your posts always make the day better.

Final call | LN⁴

📞 summary ──── Lando thought that ending things was the right decision. But he never really let go. When one final, desperate call pulls her back into his orbit, old wounds resurface, anger and longing collide, and the lines between love and heartbreak blur.

📞 pairing ──── Lando Norris x (she/her) ex!reader

📞 rating ──── explicit

📞 warnings ──── 18+, mature/sexual content, descriptive language, mentions of drinking, Lando struggling with withdrawals from his usual life, drunken texts, heavy angst and arguments, swearing, heartbreak, power struggles between both characters, smut, fingering with teasing and edging, unprotected sex, praise, desperation, overwhelming pleasure leading to emotional vulnerability, begging, multiple orgasms, post-sex tenderness, crying (I need to touch some grass fr fr).

📞 word count ──── 12.8k

📞 date ──── Mar. 30, 2025

📞 a/n ──── Been working on this for over a month now. It feels like a fever dream, I have no words. Enjoy whatever this is and I apologize in advance 🤧

IT IS A random Saturday night during the winter break, and Lando would rather stay home. But he’s spent the last two months buried in the same routine; rinse and repeat. It’s been easier that way, keeping himself too busy to think, and too exhausted to feel anything else.

This time around, his friends have been quite insistent, pushing him to get out of his self-imposed isolation.

“Come on, mate,” said Max, his frustration evident in every word he uttered, even through the speaker, “One night won’t kill you. Everyone is expecting you to be there.”

“Why would they?” asked Lando, not particularly interested in Max’s answer.

“Because I told them you’ll come. Now, don’t make me a liar, and get your athletic physique up. I’ll get to yours in five.”

Lando tried to argue at first, but Max wouldn’t take no for an answer. So, eventually, after what felt like ages of back-and-forth, he caved, mostly out of morbid curiosity.

Now, standing in the dimly lit bar, surrounded by laughter and music, he wonders why he agreed, after all. When he’s not in the mood to party or to be around people in general, everything is suddenly way too loud, too annoying, and nothing satisfies him. The air is thick with a weird combination between spilled liquor and various perfumes, adding to his irritation.

Avoiding to make a scene, Lando shifts awkwardly, nursing a drink, half-listening to whatever story Connor is animatedly telling. He feels bad when he realizes that he hasn’t seen most of his friends since the breakup, but he knows they’ve only been giving him the space he needed, waiting for him to bounce back.

But Lando hasn’t. He’s just gotten better at pretending things are going the right way. Fake it until you make it, or whatever.

“Landooo,” Max says suddenly, nudging him out of his thoughts. “Look who I ran into!”

Lando turns and his eyes lock on her, her alluring presence catching him off guard.

“This is Eva,” Max continues, “An old friend of mine.”

He can’t help but think how effortlessly beautiful she is, all bright eyes and easy smiles, with the kind of confidence that makes people gravitate toward her instinctively.

“Hey,” the girl says, offering him a playful smirk. “I was starting to think you were just a figment of Max’s imagination.”

Lando forces a chuckle. “Yeah, well. I haven’t been… around much.”

Eva tilts her head, taking him in. “That’s a vague answer.��

Max claps a hand on Lando’s shoulder. “He’s just being mysterious. It’s part of his charm, you’ll see.”

Lando rolls his eyes, but plays along. He knows what Max is doing, but he doesn’t call him out on it.

Because maybe Max is right. Maybe he should try.

And so he does.

He engages in conversation, letting himself slip into the rhythm of it. Eva is funny and easy to talk to. She makes it effortless, steering their interaction in a way that keeps his mind from wandering. As the night progresses, they end up dancing, and hands are suddenly everywhere while the music envelops them like a protective dome.

At some point, he offers to buy her another drink, and she smiles, nodding at Lando’s initiative.

“I’d like that,” she admits, her eyes sparkling under her eyelashes.

They weave through the crowd toward the bar, and as they wait, she leans in a little closer. It’s subtle at first — a touch to his shoulder when she laughs, then her fingers grazing his bicep. Lando notices it, but he doesn’t react. Not until he feels her fingertips brush against his hand. At that, he looks down and sees the way her small hand lingers against his, making his chest tighten.

She’s watching him with anticipation in her expression, waiting for him to do something. Anything. To respond, to take her hand in his, to let this moment be what it’s supposed to be.

Lando closes his eyes for a fraction. Then he pulls his hand away. Eva’s face doesn’t fall, but something shifts in her eyes; the spark goes away, being replaced by something Lando can’t quite decipher. Confusion, perhaps? Understanding, maybe? Pity, for sure.

She nods, taking a step back, putting distance between them. “Right,” her voice is light, but unbothered. “Cheers for the drink, Lando. I should get back to my friends.”

Lando swallows, guilt gnawing at him. “Eva, it’s not that I don’t—”

She stops him with a tiny smile hanging in the corner of her mouth. “Don’t have to explain yourself to me, darling. It was fun meeting you, hope to see you around. Have a nice night.”

And with that, she’s gone.

He watches her disappear into the crowd, debating going after her or scanning the place to find someone else.

Finally, Lando turns back to the bar, giving his head a little shake.

Well, that went well.

He downs the rest of his drink in one go and signals for another. The liquid burns his throat, but it’s still not enough. He needs more, now that he’s alone. Just for tonight.

As Max said, it won’t kill him.

A few minutes later, Lando returns to his people with another drink in hand. He looks much more relaxed, but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s still there, somewhere, lost among the lonely nights spent in his apartment, buried under the lies he told his friends just to be left alone.

Max spots him first and frowns, “Mate, where’s Eva?”

Lando shrugs, “I think she didn’t like my bucket hat.”

Max squints in his direction, clearly unimpressed. “You didn’t even try, did you?”

He did, but won’t bother explaining that to Max. It’s not the time nor the place and, taking a slow sip of his new drink, Lando doesn’t answer, ending the conversation there.

HIS PLACE IS drenched in darkness, exactly how he left it, when Lando stumbles in. He kicks off his shoes haphazardly, muttering a curse as one skids across the floor.

So, Max’s plan hadn’t helped; nothing ever does. He had laughed at all the right moments, sipped at overpriced drinks, and told himself he was having fun. But the ride home had been silent, his thoughts crashing against him like a lost boat against the waves in the middle of a storm.

His friend offered to stay over, but didn’t insist when Lando told him he was okay; two months of pretending he was.

Two months of convincing himself he made the right choice, that he needed space to figure out who he was outside of them. He told himself he needed to be alone and focus on his work, because the aftertaste of the last season still lingers. He wants to see his dream manifesting before his eyes, and he knows that comes with a set of sacrifices. He is ready, but how far is he willing to go? What else is he willing to give up?

Because all he’s done in her absence is slowly descending into madness.

With a defeated sigh, Lando collapses onto the couch. His head falls back against the cushions, just as his phone starts buzzing into his pocket. He doesn’t need to check it to know it isn’t her. She hasn’t reached out since the day she walked away, her face crumpling in defeat as she whispered, I can’t keep fighting for something you clearly don’t want.

The memory of her face still haunts him, because he knows now, just as he knew then, that he should have fought harder. He wishes he had at least tried. Although he also knows it wouldn’t have been fair to either of them, because the mental state he was in at the time would’ve made everything worse for both of them.

Without thinking too much of it, his thumb finds her little icon, and before he can stop himself, Lando starts typing.

10:24 PM: Hey, you up?

10:24 PM: Sorry.

10:26 PM: Can we talk?

10:30 PM: You ever think about us?

10:35 PM: Forget I said anything.

10:39 PM: No, actually, don’t. You were everything. You ARE everything.

10:39 PM: I may be a little bit drunk, but I fucking miss you, baby…

10:41 PM: I don’t miss you because I’m drunk BTW. I just miss you.

10:41 PM: All the time.

10:45 PM: Was I ever enough for you? Like, in general… do you think we could’ve made it work?

10:47 PM: God, I hate you for making me question myself like this.

10:58 PM: I don’t hate you. I can’t. I can’t stop thinking about you.

11:59 PM: Remember when we went to Lake Como and got lost trying to find that little café? I think about that all the time. It started raining, and we both got sick, then we stayed in bed for a week.

11:08 PM: Are you happy?

11:10 PM: Please, say something.

11:10 PM: I know I ended this, but don’t ignore me.

11:10 PM: Please…

On the other side of the city, she’s sitting across from a man who could be plucked from a brochure for Monaco’s elite. His posture oozes confidence and he’s immaculate, from the tailored suit to his charm that has her smiling politely but distantly. He’s nothing like Lando, and she noticed that from the first date. That’s the reason why she agreed to go out again. And again.

Now, she’s four dates in, and she tries to convince herself she could get used to seeing this man as something more. But it’s not that easy when all he talks about is crypto currency and boats.

Suddenly, her phone starts buzzing, a succession of vibrations that she tries to ignore at first.

Once.

Twice.

Three-four-five-six-seven times.

When it keeps going, she excuses herself to glance at the screen, and her stomach twists as she sees his name. What freaks her out at first is that only now she realizes that she never changed his contact name, and LANDO ♥︎ now occupies both the entire size of her screen and her entire mind.

“Is everything okay?” her date asks, his voice cutting through her haze.

She blinks, confused, “I’m sorry, yeah,” she says, a wave of heat crawling up her chest and neck. “I forgot to put it on silent.”

A deep ache settles in between her lungs as she touches the icon to silent her phone. She wishes she could do that to her brain right now, because all of a sudden, her entire world starts spinning faster.

It’s the first time he’s reached out since he ended things. For her, this is monumental. But she shouldn’t care. She shouldn’t even be tempted to read whatever nonsense he keeps typing out. But then another message comes through, begging her not to ignore him, and something about the desperation in the rapid notifications makes her break.

“Excuse me,” the girl says quickly, pushing her chair back as she gets up, ready to head towards the bathroom. “I’ll be right back.”

Somehow, she knew the quiet won’t last forever, but she kept hoping that Lando was happy, even without her. She hated him for a few hours after he broke up with her, but all the hatred faded away the next morning, when she woke up in an empty bed, trying her best to understand his decision.

She did, eventually. And she accepted it. More than that, she respected it, because she knew that Lando would do the same for her.

Rage.

She put in so much work, and now it’s all for nothing.

She exhales heavily, gripping the edge of the sink before finally, finally unlocking her phone, not so surprised to see more texts flooding the screen.

11:12 PM: I just wanna talk, I swear.

11:12 PM: Can I call you?

11:12 PM: Just once, please.

11:13 PM: I miss your voice.

Her heart breaks a little, but before she can overthink it, she presses that call button herself, and Lando picks up on the first ring. There’s silence at first. Nothing but his uneven breathing and the faint hum of the muted background noise.

Then, she hears his voice, rough and slightly slurred, “You called.”

She closes her eyes, trying her best to control her trembling hands. “Only to tell you to stop texting me, Lando. I am busy.”

A pause. Then a slow, shaky inhale, followed by Lando’s curiosity, “It’s almost midnight on a Saturday night, how busy are—” he stops himself as if realizing something obvious, his next words dripping in disappointment, “Oh, you’re busy,” he continues, but this time his voice changes to nonchalance. “What am I interrupting?”

She presses her lips in a thin line, bringing her fingers to her temple. “None of—”

“Are you with someone?”

Her throat tightens. “None of your business,” she finally manages to say.

His heavy breath crackles through the speaker. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

She doesn’t confirm it. Doesn’t deny it. Just exhales slowly, wishing she would disintegrate into thin air before the conversation gets to an end.

To break her silence, Lando makes a noise, something caught between a bitter laugh and a sigh. “How boring is he? Be honest.”

The girl blinks, letting out a dry laugh. “Excuse me?”

“The guy you’re with,” says Lando, “How boring is he? Does he talk about taxes and golf? I bet he fucking sucks at golf.”

“Lando, how drunk—”

“Does he make you laugh?” his voice drops, softer now, but unsure. “Like I used to? God, I miss your laugh.”

She grips the sink tighter, warning him, “Stop that.”

Silence.

Then, in true Lando fashion, he blurts out something completely ridiculous, “And I miss you.”

Her stomach flips. Painfully.

He shouldn’t have this right. He broke up with her. He was the one who argued in detail why they should break up and stay that way. Him. But hearing his voice again, after all this time, she realizes how easy it is to fall back into it. Into everything they had.

“I do,” Lando insists, “I really fucking miss you, baby. Do you miss me?”

The words hit like a sucker punch.

Yes.

She bites her lip, willing herself not to break. “No,” she ends up saying.

“No,” he echoes. And for once, he sounds completely sober.

She swallows hard, forcing her voice to stay steady as she repeats, “I am busy. Goodbye, Lando.”

And before he can say anything else, before she lets herself feel too much and tell him the truth, she hangs up. With a heavy heart, she presses the phone against her chest, eyes shut, trying to breathe through the emotions crashing over her.

Breaking up with someone when you still love them is like throwing yourself into a bottomless pit. You don’t know when or if the fall will ever end, you have no idea whether or not you’ll be alone on the other side if it does end, and you certainly don’t know if you’ll make it there alive. They had their problems, of course. Everybody does. But for the first time in their relationship, Lando’s goals didn’t include her, and she had to make peace with it.

Inhaling deeply, she looks back at her reflection then she steels herself, smoothing her dress, and wiping at the corners of her eyes.

THE SECOND SHE hangs up, her words brand themselves into his brain, and for a while, he’s terrified that he’ll go mad, because they won’t stop replaying in his head like a broken record.

Goodbye, Lando. Goodbye, Lando. Goodbye, Lando.

Goodbye.

The finality of it slams into him, sucking the air from his lungs, and all the light from his eyes.

He can’t do anything but stand there, phone still pressed to his ear, as if maybe she’ll change her mind and call back. As if this is just a silly test, some cruel joke played by the universe to see how much more he can take before he completely breaks.

To his horror, the line stays dead, and the realization settles in too quickly for him to process, a dull ache spreading through his chest like poison ivy.

She didn’t even hesitate, didn’t soften, didn’t give him anything to hold onto. And maybe it’s better this way, but how easy is it to close the door on someone like that?

For the past two months, he told himself that if he ever needed her — really needed her — she’d be there for him. Because he knows her, and he knows that no matter how much time passed, no matter how many miles stretched between them, she’d still be his person.

But now, the truth is staring Lando in the face. And it looks like him. She’s gone for good, and he has no one to blame but himself.

His jaw clenches, his hold tightening around the phone so hard he might break it. The room feels too big, too empty, too goddamn quiet to the point it gets too much. With an angry exhale, Lando hurls his phone across the room, watching it smashing against the wall before clattering to the floor, the sound slicing through his ears like a gunshot.

With a deep sigh, he drags his hands down his face, fingers digging into his skin as if he can claw the frustration out of his body.

What did you expect? he asks himself. Then, he laughs. A dry laugh, deprived of real amusement.

At that time, space was what he needed, but she was never something Lando needed to escape. She was his anchor. His safe place. And now, she’s out with some other guy, probably smiling in that adorable way she does when she’s trying to be polite but isn’t actually interested.

Or maybe she is interested. Maybe she is moving on.

The thought nearly guts him.

Pushed by fear from behind, Lando forces himself to move, pacing the the living room while he runs a hand through his hair, irritation simmering beneath his skin like an annoying itch he can’t scratch. His heart is racing, thoughts spiraling faster than he can control. The only time he felt like this before was when his car slipped from his grasp back in 2021 at Spa. He knew he had to brace for impact, and knew his time was limited to do so. The difference now is that he can’t even brace himself, because the impact already took him by surprise.

This can’t be it.

After a moment, he crosses the room and picks up his phone. It has a little crack across the screen, but it’s still functional and, in his foolishness, he takes it as a sign to start typing again.

11:59 PM: Fuck your goodbye. You’re really just going to pretend like I don’t exist?

11:59 PM: After everything?

12:01 AM: Such a fucking liar.

12:01 AM: You can’t tell me you don’t feel anything. That you don’t miss me at all.

12:04 AM: I know I fucked up. I know I hurt you, alright? But I swear to god, I never stopped caring about you.

12:04 AM: Not for a second.

12:07 AM: It’s so stupid, but tell me to move on, and I will.

12:08 AM: Tell me you don’t love me anymore, and I’ll leave you alone.

12:48 AM: Please, don’t leave me like this…

12:48 AM: We can find a way, I know we can.

12:53 AM: No one will ever know you like I do, you know that, right?

12:53 AM: He doesn’t know how you hum when you’re nervous or how you always steal the blanket in your sleep, does he?

01:23 AM: Got it.

01:23 AM: If you ever meant what we promised, just know that this is my final call.

The moment he sends the last text, Lando knows he’s got only one chance to make it right. And maybe he took it too far this time, but he’s also at peace, knowing he did everything he could to catch her attention.

Their worst fight ever, before breaking up, nearly ended them right there and then. They were on the verge of walking away, but when all the anger settled and the silence stretched between them, they both realized neither wanted to lose the other. So, they needed a way to say it. A final chance to make things right.

A final call.

A desperate ‘I need you’. No games, no pretending. If one of them said it, the other showed up, no questions asked.

But the seconds turn into minutes, and the minutes turn into his darkest hour.

HER KNUCKLES ALMOST leave marks against Lando’s door from how aggressively she’s knocking. She is relentless, angry, and insistent, like she wants to break through it at all costs.

Behind the door, Lando frowns, pushing himself off the couch where he’d been slumped, after the realization hit him. But when he swings it open, his heart nearly flatlines.

She’s standing there, chest heaving and eyes wild with fury, with her tears still fresh on her face. Before he can say a word, she pushes him hard, forcing him a step back as she storms inside. The door slams shut behind her, the sound ringing through the silence of his empty apartment.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Lando?” her voice cracks, her chin trembling under the weight of her furious words. “Are you actually serious?”

Lando barely has time to react before she shoves him again, her palms pressing into his chest with all the force her adrenaline generates.

He stumbles back, blinking at her in shock.

“You’re such a coward!” she yells, “This is so unfair, you know?” her voice wavers, but her anger doesn’t falter. “You have no right to do this to me. None.”

Lando swallows hard, his mind scrambling to catch up. But too much is happening too quickly, and he doesn’t get the chance, before she interrupts him right when he’s about to speak.

“No. You’ve said enough, now I’m talking,” her breath is ragged while pointing a finger at her chest, her whole body shaking with rage as she glares up at him. “You don’t get to pull me in just to push me away. Again and again. You don’t get to decide when you love me and when you need space. And you sure as hell don’t get to use your last call just to make me drop everything for you. Because of course I will, and you know it!” she says, laughing at herself in disbelief. “That’s so fucking selfish, especially when I know you don’t even mean it, and you’re just too fucking pressed that I’m moving on without you.”

His stomach twists. “I do mean it.”

“Oh, really? Then why do you do this?” she asks, her voice breaking as she shoves him again, weaker this time. “Why? One second, you’re in love with me, and the next, you want to be left alone. And now you’re dragging me back in like I don’t have a choice, like I don’t have a life outside of you.”

Lando flinches, guilt settling deep in his bones. “I wasn’t trying to—”

“You don’t know what you want,” she accuses, her voice trembling in frustration. “Because if you did, you’d know how ridiculous you’re being right now. You can’t do this to people who love you, Lando. You can’t just… fuck with my peace like this just because you’ve had a rough night. I’ve had plenty of those myself!” she loses it, turning around only to take a break from seeing his face.

Her words hit Lando like a freight train, but she doesn’t even realize what she’s just said. She’s too caught up in the whirlwind of emotions, too exhausted from holding herself together. But Lando heard her loud and clear: she still loves him.

He takes a step toward her, thinking that she’s done with pushing, but when she suddenly turns around, she starts hitting his chest again, enough to pour out all the anger, all the irritation, and all the heartbreak she’s been carrying like rocks in her pockets.

Lando just stands there, letting her, because he knows he deserves it.

Finally, she lets out a shaky breath, her hands falling limply against him. Her forehead presses into his chest as the fight drains from her completely, and a sob wracks through her. Instinctively, Lando’s arms move on their own, pulling her into his tight embrace.

He wraps himself around her, his grip firm but careful, like she might slip through his fingers if he’s not careful. Her tears soak into his shirt, and for the first time in months, the floor stopped moving under his feet, and Lando can breathe again.

They stay like that for a long time. No more words. No more yelling. Just the sound of their breathing, and their hearts beating in sync. Lando’s hand is gently moving up and down her back, and she hates how safe she feels with his scent enveloping her from every direction.

She doesn’t know how much time passes, but eventually, she sniffles and pulls away just enough to wipe her cheeks.

Her fingers brush lightly against his damp shirt, letting out out a humorless laugh. “I probably ruined your stupid shirt. There’s make-up all over. Sorry.”

Lando shakes his head, his hands still resting on her waist. “That’s okay.”

She scoffs, stepping back to free herself from his embrace. Next time she looks up at him, her eyes are still glassy, but there’s something softer in them now. Then, quietly, she says, “He was boring, by the way.”

She walks past him without another word, heading straight for the couch, just like she did a thousand times before.

Lando turns to follow her, his mind slowly starting to catch up.

She’s here.

She came.

He hesitates for a moment before he enters her personal space again, watching as she sinks into the couch, exhaling silently as if she’s trying to steady herself. She rubs the mascara smudges beneath her eyes, and the sight twists something deep in his chest, realizing that he did this to her. Again. And he hates it. Hates knowing that he’s the reason she looks so lost, with puffy eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. Hates that she showed up at his door furious, but now she just looks tired. Most likely of him. Of their situation. Of running in circles that he’s designing with the sole purpose of torturing her.

Still, as Lando lowers himself onto the couch beside her, a strange sense of normalcy settles over him. They’ve sat like this countless times before, curled up together watching movies, falling asleep tangled in each other, making love, and sharing lazy conversations over takeout. He can still picture her lying here in one of his hoodies, laughing at some stupid joke he made, eyes bright and full of adoration. But tonight, the space between them is foreign, like a chasm neither of them knows how to cross.

He exhales, raking a hand through his curls. At least, her words sobered him up, his thoughts clearer than they’ve been in months.

“I met someone tonight,” Lando’s voice cuts through the silence.

Her heart drops in her stomach, but she turns her head to look at him. Her expression is unreadable, however, Lando can see the way her fingers tighten on her thighs, like she’s bracing herself.

He swallows. “If you need a reason why, this is it. Max introduced me to her,” his tone is quieter now, a bit uncertain. “I think he was trying to… I don’t know. Set me up, maybe.”

She nods once, a short, clipped motion. “And?”

“I tried,” he admits. “I really did. She was nice. We had a few drinks together.” Lando huffs out something that’s almost a laugh but lacks any real amusement. “I even thought that maybe it could work out. I hoped it would work out.”

She doesn’t say anything, but looks at him with empty eyes and dry lips.

Lando sighs, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. “But then she tried to hold my hand and…”

A beat of silence.

Another deep sigh.

He lifts his head just enough to glance at her from the corner of his eye before continuing, “I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t pretend,” he adds, voice faint, like the confession is physically weighing on him. “It felt so wrong.”

She turns her face away, staring at the opposite wall, her jaw clenched. She understands him, of course she does. Because that’s exactly what she was doing before her phone was flooded with his texts — pretending. Faking it. Settling for something that, deep down, was so utterly wrong.

Lando shakes his head. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

He watches her profile, trying his best to understand what’s going on inside her head, what she’s thinking, and if she’s warring with her own heart, just like he did for the past two months.

Finally, Lando leans back against the couch. His fingers drum restlessly against his knee when he starts speaking again, “Do you like him?”

She stiffens. “What?”

“The guy you were with tonight,” he says, studying her closely. “Do you like him?”

The girl rolls her eyes, pressing her lips together. “You are so incredibly stupid, Lando.”

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs, “I still want to hear you saying it.”

She hesitates, “I don’t know. He’s nice.”

It’s Lando’s turn to roll his eyes now, “Nice.”

She gives him a sharp look. “Yeah, nice. Like the girl you met? What is wrong with that?”

“Nothing,” he mutters. But when she keeps staring, he forces himself to continue, picking at the lint on his pants, only to avoid her piercing eyes. “It’s just… you never went for nice.”

Her expression flickers between annoyance and something else he can’t quite name.

“You don’t know me like that anymore,” she warns him.

Lando lets out a quiet breath, “People don’t change that easily,” he says it like he talks from experience. “I’d still be able to recognize you blindfolded.”

His words almost knock the wind out of her. She tilts her chin up, trying to hold onto her anger, but it’s slipping through her fingers like sand. Especially when he speaks so soflty, no bitter trace behind his voice. It’s just a fact.

“I don’t know about that,” she whispers.

“I do,” he says, getting closer to her side of the couch.

She takes a breath in, exhaling slowly. “You walked away, Lando. It was your choice. What changed?”

Instead of looking back at her, Lando’s picking now at the skin of his thumb with his nail, until he feels the blood under his fingertip. “I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“For who exactly?”

His chest tightens. “It was for you too,” he says in a defensive tone. “I couldn’t be what you needed. It took me years to finally be competitive, and I barely had time to breathe outside work, let alone be someone you could rely on. There was so much noise around me, I just couldn’t put you in second.”

She shakes her head, her expression caught between irritation and heartbreak. “You didn’t have to change anything for my comfort. I know what racing means to you. Knowing you were there was enough for me.”

He swallows, guilt pressing heavy against his ribs. “Not enough. I didn’t want to drag you down.”

Her lips part, a flash of disbelief crossing her face. “Do you even hear yourself?” she gestures wildly, “You were never dragging me down. I was so happy for you, Lando. Still am,” she blinks rapidly, trying to push down the emotion rising in her throat. “But you decided I was an inconvenience.”

Lando closes his eyes briefly, his fingers curling into fists. He knows she’s right. He knows. But back then, he had convinced himself that letting her go was the only way to keep her from ending up hating him. Now, she’s standing next to him, looking at him like she doesn’t know whether she wants to scream or sob.

“I’m sorry,” it’s all he can say. And then, “I just... missed you.”

Out of instinct, she makes herself smaller on the couch, raising her knees to her chest.

“I tried to act like I didn’t, but I was miserable,” Lando adds, “Everywhere I went, I was looking for you. Waiting for you.”

She closes her eyes, shaking her head again. “Spare me, won’t you?”

“I’m not saying this to change your mind,” he defends himself quickly. “I just need you to know. Because it was eating me alive.”

Her arms loosen around herself, her posture softening just a fraction. “Do you think I wasn’t miserable too?” her voice cracks on the last word. “You said I was pretending you didn’t exist. Do you really think I just walked away and simply forgot about you?”

Lando stares at her, taking in the way her lower lip trembles, the way her eyes are shining with new, unshed tears.

“I don’t know,” he admits.

“Stupid, stupid,” she repeats.

She’s still mad at him. But she aches to be closer, to touch him, to bury her face in his chest and just breathe him in. Just for a moment. Just long enough to pretend that everything is okay again.

Cautious, Lando lifts a hand like he’s giving her time to pull away. But when she doesn’t, his fingers brush against her hair, gently tucking a loose strand behind her ear. His touch is light, barely there, but it still gives her chills. Then, without thinking too much of it, she leans into his touch, her eyes fluttering shut.

A tear slips down her cheek, and before she can wipe it away, Lando’s thumb does.

“I’m sorry.”

She lets out a quiet sob, and that’s all it takes for Lando to pull her into his arms without hesitation. She melts against him, fists gripping the fabric of his shirt, pressing her face back against his chest as she lets more tears out.

Lando buries his face in her hair, whispering all over again, as if that will make her believe him, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.”

Tears are threatening his eyes too, but he closes them before they can escape.

He feels the warmth of her breath against his collarbone and, once again, he’s terrified. He would rather her push him away, rather her scream at him, tell him she hates him, hurt him back. Because all this silence is unbearable. It swallows him whole, and tells him everything he’s too afraid to admit: that he drained her, emptied her out until there was nothing left to give.

He’s about to apologize again, but then he feels it in the way her fingers, still curled into the fabric of his shirt, twitch slightly, and the weight of her head is pressing deeper into his chest — she fell asleep. As soon as things went quiet, she slipped under, exhausted in a way that has nothing to do with the time of night and everything to do with him.

A lump forms in his throat as he presses a lingering kiss to her forehead. He shifts carefully, moving just enough to lean back fully, making sure she’s as comfortable as possible. But unfortunately, sleep doesn’t come easy for him.

HER PALM RESTS against his cheek, the heat of his skin seeping into hers. Every exhale of hers tickles his jaw, and it feels like muscle memory, the way her body molds into his, the way he instinctively holds onto her even in sleep.

Lando doesn’t stir. He never does. He’s always been the type to sleep through anything — alarms, thunderstorms, and morning light flooding the room. Even now, he’s dead to the world, his lips slightly parted, his arm wrapped lazily around her waist.

But his phone vibrates on the coffee table, and that’s what wakes her up, the sound cutting through the stillness. She barely registers it at first, burying her face against his chest, but when it buzzes again and again, she groans softly.

Disoriented, her breath deepens as she takes in her surroundings: the familiar scent, the heavy weight of Lando’s arm, the warmth of his body against hers. And then, all of it crashes down on her. Last night. Every whispered apology, every push, every tear, every way she let herself slip back into him like she never left.

Suddenly, a wave of panic wakes her up for good and, covering her mouth with a trembling hand, she tries to muffle the sob that threatens to escape. She can’t cry again; she’s way too exhausted for that. But her body betrays her, stiffening next to him as his weight becomes suffocating.

Luckily, the continuous buzzing takes her out of it and, reluctantly, she finally reaches for Lando’s phone. The screen lights up with a crack across it, and lots of notifications. It’s 1:04 PM, and a text from an unsaved number catches her attention first:

Hey, Lando ;) This is Eva. Max gave me your number, said you weren’t feeling well last night. I’d like to see you again tonight if...

The rest of the message is cut off by the lock screen, so she lets the phone drop back against the glass of the table, swallowing past the tightness in her throat and slowly turns onto her side, facing him. Lando looks so peaceful like this. His curls are messy, his face slack with sleep, no frown decorating the smooth skin of his forehead. His eyebrows are a little fuzzy, so she gently styles them back into shape with her thumb.

She missed their lazy mornings more than anything. The way the concept of time never seemed to exist when they were wrapped up in each other, away from anything that could potentially come in between them.

Her hand is still weak as she presses her palm to Lando’s chest. His heartbeat thrums beneath her fingertips, steady, warm, alive. That’s why she came here in the first place: for him. And in the clear daylight, she realizes that the familiarity between them can’t be reversed. Last night was a lot, but she can’t let herself fall into it again, no matter how badly her body wants to stay curled into him.

She brings the same palm to her chest then, trying to put some distance, but Lando stirs instinctively. His arm pulls at her waist, his fingers twitching against the fabric of her dress, unwilling to let her go even in the hazy blur of waking up.

His body recognizes hers before his mind does; the warmth, the normalcy of having her there. Then, reality creeps in, dragging him back into consciousness. And with it comes the dull ache pressing against the inside of his skull, the dryness in his throat, the remnants of last night staining his entire body with exhaustion, guilt, and shame.

“I feel like shit,” he speaks against her shoulder, voice raspy from sleep. His head is pounding, his stomach unsettled, but her scent is the only thing guiding him to something steady. He breathes it in, eyes still closed, and continues, “I need a greasy burger for breakfast.”

“It’s past one,” she says quietly.

Lando groans, rolling onto his back, draping an arm over his eyes. He can feel her presence, but even though her body is so close to his, he starts to feel the tension. The distance. He realizes it the second she moves again, getting in a sitting position, ready to leave the bed. Leave him.

Lando’s eyes snap open, desperate to catch a glimpse of her, even as the sunlight nearly blinds him. Her hair is messy, hands resting against her lap. Her dress is all wrinckled and drapes over her frame, making her look small in a way that destroys him. Like she doesn’t belong to this moment, like she’s already halfway out the door.

“I should go,” she says the words that he was so afraid of, and it feels like a knife to his ribs.

“You should stay,” he insists. “We can get something to eat, and I’ll give you a ride home.”

She presses a palm against her forehead, realizing the gravity of the situation. Giving him false hope won’t help anyone.

“No, thank you. Falling asleep was already bad enough.”

Lando clears his throat before speaking again, slightly unsure, “Was it, though?” he asks and, in return, she shoots him a warning look. “I know, I’m sorry.”

However, she’s no longer angry with him. She exhausted the last of her strength last night, and now all that’s left is the bitter taste of what could have been.

“Is that the only thing you’ll say now?”

He licks his lips, throat still dry as if he drank sand. “Yes. Until you forgive me.”

It was meant to be lighthearted, a little joke, and a weak attempt at softening the weight pressing down on both of them. Based on past experiences, she always forgave him. So why should now be any different, right? But when she doesn’t react, when the silence only thickens, he realizes how fucking stupid that was.

She blinks once, twice. Her gaze flickers away, “Your final call,” she says quietly, “Did you do it because of that girl? You got scared because you liked her more than you thought you could?”

Lando’s heart stalls for a second, caught off guard by her inquire. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I don’t know what the hell I was doing. I mean, I was scared. But not of her,” he stops, thinking of it. The frown comes back, and it looks like the thought gives him a headache. “I was scared of falling back into something I couldn’t fix. Still am. You and me… we’re not easy, you know?” he lets out a small, bitter laugh, almost self-deprecating. “We’ve never been easy. And I’m just so tired of fucking things up.”

She doesn’t think much about her actions lately. She wasn’t thinking last night when she left her date in a rush, and she certainly isn’t thinking now, as she turns her body to face him.

“I don’t understand you anymore, Lando. The only thing I do understand is that you pushed me away just so you wouldn’t have to deal with me. Because you couldn’t handle me, is that right?”

Lando winces. The weight of her words hit him harder than any punch. “No, it’s not right. I just didn’t know how to fix… me,” he says it for the first time out loud, his voice breaking on the last part; surprisingly, it’s not making him as uncomfortable as he thought it would. “I didn’t want to lose you. Not like that.”

She scoffs, “And now what? You think one drunken night is enough to put you on the right track? You think you know what you want just because you’re afraid of losing something that’s no longer yours anyway?” the girl asks, watching as his facial expression changing in pain. “I’m sorry, Lando. I don’t mean to be cruel, but I need answers.”

His voice is barely a whisper as he replies, “The only answer I can give you is that I didn’t know how to be what you needed at the time. Is that so hard to believe?”

Her eyes fill with tears, but she blinks them away. “It is,” she agrees, “Because you never asked me what I needed. Not once. You just did what was best for you. And now…,” her voice trails off before moving her eyes on a random point on the floor, “You’re not showing me anything. You can say that all you want, but how do I know you won’t push me away again? I need to know you’re here, that you’re really here.”

Lando reaches for her then, almost instinctively, his hands determined as he cups her face. “I am here,” he whispers, leaning in, his breath shaky against her skin. “You’re just too stubborn to let me back in. And I get why,” he rushes to say as he feels her tensing under his touch. “But, please. Let me fix us. Please.”

Neither of them speak for a while after that. She’s so close to him now, she can hear both of their heartbeats, the weight of every single second hanging between them like lead from a strand of hair.

She is hesitant, but she pulls him in first, her lips barely brushing over his. Even though it’s a featherlight touch, her close proximity ignites something highly flammable in Lando. He stills, his breath caught in his throat, his hands curling into fists as if holding himself back, too afraid to take it any further too fast.

Just as he leans in, just as he starts to close the little gap, slowly, she pulls away. The loss of her, even for a second, makes his patience snap and, without giving her the chance to build another wall between them, he reaches out, fingers threading into her hair, pulling her back to him, this time with purpose.

She doesn’t resist — can’t, really.

His forehead presses against hers and neither of them move, trapped in the space between knowing and doing. His grip tightens against her jaw, thumb stroking over the edge of her cheek, his breath hot against her parted lips. The weight of everything that’s been left unsaid lingers in the air, and it’s suffocating. She exhales shakily, closing her eyes for a moment, her hands sliding up his chest, fingers splayed over his heart, feeling the way it pounds beneath her touch. And then, as if her body betrays every ounce of hesitation in her mind, she fists his shirt and pulls him back against her.

They crash together, and the world tilts within a second.

Their lips meet in a clash of want and desperation that knows no border of sanity. His hands are suddenly everywhere, cradling her face, threading through her hair, tracing the delicate curve of her spine. She presses into him, her nails scraping against the back of his neck, anchoring herself to him like she’s afraid he’ll slip away any minute. Like he’s going to change his mind again, and tell her to leave, because he needs to be alone.

But he won’t. He never will again. The taste of her floods his senses, familiar and intoxicating, making his body buzz with excitement as he deepens the kiss. He breathes her in, trying to make up for every second he’s spent without her.

She wants him, and she’s aware that things could go exponentially wrong after this, but she’s already broke the rules the moment she crossed his threshold last night. She shifts against him, pressing closer, her fingers tracing lazy patterns over his chest. He stirs slightly, humming, his arms automatically locking around her, helping her sit on his lap.

Her lips brush against his jaw, trailing down the column of his throat. She’s barely even touching him, but she knows he feels it, because she hears the way his breathing stutters, the slight twitch of his fingers against her hip. She smiles, shifting again, innocent, except not at all, because her thigh suddenly drags over his, pressing just enough to feel the growing heat between them.

Lando lets out a sleepy grunt, burying his face in the crook of her neck. “What the hell are you doing?” his aroused voice is exactly how she remembers, rough and deep, and able to send shivers down her spine.

She hums, pressing another kiss to his collarbone. “Nothing.”

Lando chuckles, his hand sliding to grab her waist, fingers lazy but firm. “No, I think you’re doing something.”

And, whatever she’s doing, she doesn’t stop. Doesn’t even pause to think.

She lets out a dry laugh, edged with sadness and a hint of accusation, “Always making me ache, aren’t you?” she asks, pressing her lips against his ear, while positioning herself above him, helping Lando get rid of his shirt. Soon enough, her fingers are dragging down his stomach, nails grazing lightly at his abs. “It’s like it turns you on to see me in pain, isn’t it?” the girl sighs, brushing her hips against his in a way that makes him curse under his breath.

His fingers dig more into her waist, his patience thinning by the second. “You know that’s not true,” his voice sounds so angelic, that she actually believes him for a second because of it. “I’m sorry you can’t trust me anymore. But there’s nothing I hate more than to see you hurting because of me.”

She nods, giving him the impression that his words have the power to make her weak. In reality, she’s just curious to find out how sorry he really is.

“You’ve said that about a hundred times already,” the girl reminds him, “How bad, though?” she tries to push the limits, mostly to see if there are any, the words slipping from her lips like something delicate and filthy all at once. “Bad enough that you’ll drunk text me again? To see if I come running to you? Again? To say you’re sorry a hundred more times, hoping I’ll let you fuck me in whatever position you want, for as long as you want just because I feel for your sorry ass?”

His nostrils flare as he exhales in disapproval, “Stop that shit.”

“Why?” her voice sounds overly seductive, but somehow, he knows it’s just a trap. “Isn’t sex your answer to everything?”

There you go.

Lando’s jaw tenses as the words continue to leave her mouth, unforgiving, each one winding around his self-control like a vice. His fingers twitch on her waist, the weight of her straddling him making it impossible to think straight. She knows exactly what she’s doing, pushing, teasing and testing the waters of his restraint.

And fuck, it’s working.

Her dress has ridden up her thighs higher, exposing smooth, warm skin that begs to be touched, and his hands find their way there without permission, fingertips pressing into her like he wants to make sure he’s not just dreaming, and she’s actually there.

“Not trying to fuck my way back to you, if that’s what you mean,” Lando disagrees just as he lets his fingers drift higher, watching the way her breath becomes more uneven. “But won’t back down if it works, either. So what does that say about you? That we’re just the same?”

She puffs out a laugh, but there’s no humor behind it. Just a lot of tension, coiled so tight between them that something is bound to snap. Soon.

“We’re so not,” she argues, tilting her head slightly, her lips so close to his that he can taste her breath. “I actually have the balls to stay when things get tough.”

Her unfiltered comment it’s all it takes.

Lando moves in a blur, gripping her hips and flipping them over in one swift motion, pressing her into the couch as a surprised gasp leaves her lips. He hovers over her, his body fitting perfectly between her open thighs, hands braced on either side of her head. The sudden shift has her looking up at him, wide-eyed, lips parted, and chest heaving in anticipation.

In this position, Lando looks at her like he’s trying to figure out what to do to her, aware that the changing in dynamics favors him. His hands find the hem of her dress, fingertips teasing the edge as he watches her reaction, giving her a chance to stop him — or to take back her words, whichever comes first. But she does neither. Instead, she lifts her hips, a silent plea, and that’s all the permission that Lando needs.

He peels the fabric up, savoring the way her body is revealed inch by inch. His mouth finds the newly exposed skin along her ribs with the speed of a man starved, trailing open-mouthed kisses up her torso, leaving a path of goosebumps in his wake. Lando can feel her shiver beneath him, her fingers tangling into his curls, tugging just enough to pull a string of sweet noises out of him.

“I won’t be able to stop if we—” he murmurs against her skin, a last sliver of hesitation buried underneath all the want.

She cuts him off by cupping his jaw, guiding his face up so he has no choice but to look at her. “I won’t ask you to,” she assures him, lifting her hips up once more to meet his, feeling how hard he is against her. The contact is like a drug she’s been deprived of for too long, and now that she has access to him again, her mouth starts moving before wiring to the rational side of her brain, “I wanna do laundry together later.”

Despite what he’s just said, Lando does stop, watching her intently. Because he knows that she means more than just laundry. For starters, it means she’s staying. It means she’s letting him try. It means the weight in his chest that’s been suffocating him for weeks finally lifts, replaced by something warm yet fragile, something he doesn’t dare break this time.

He has to swallow past the ache before pressing himself against her, letting her scent wrap around him like the most familiar kind of comfort.

“Yeah?” he finally whispers, like he’s afraid speaking too loudly might shatter whatever weak truce they’ve found between them.

She nods, a real smile appearing on her face, the first one in months, “Yeah,” she parrots, which urges Lando to plant another kiss on her lips, lazier this time. And she welcomes him.

Gradually, his grip consolidates around her, his teeth catching her bottom lip, and suddenly, the slow morning is anything but. Now he’s wired, wide awake, and so fucking hard.

Her hands work fast, pushing at the waistband of his pants with an urgency that makes Lando’s pulse hammer in his throat. He moves enough to help her, and then the fabric is gone, pooling somewhere on the floor, next to her dress and panties.

The feeling of skin on skin has the power to set him on fire, every inch of him hypersensitive as she drags her fingers down his stomach, nails scratching lightly against the ridges of muscle before wrapping around him for just a second, only to say hi. His breath catches, head tipping forward before he forces himself to look down at her.

“You’re a menace,” Lando points out. His voice is thick with desire as he rolls his hips against her once her hands move around his neck, dragging his length along the soft skin of her inner thigh, brushing lightly where she needs him most. He feels her shiver, her nails digging into his back for a fraction of a second before she exhales a breathy laugh.

“I had to adapt,” she says, her voice saccharine, but teasing, fingers biting into his shoulder blades.

“I can see that,” his tone is rough, but there’s something playful underneath it. He continues to move, this time with more intention, the tip of his cock catching against her slick heat.

She bites her lip, her free hand reaching up to pull him down on her and crash their lips together in a messy, open-mouthed kiss, too desperate to be anything but raw. He groans into her mouth, their breaths blending together, and she takes the moment to wrap her legs around his waist, locking him against her completely, the heat ever-growing.

The easiest thing in the world for Lando is to get lost in her warmth, her scent and the way his skin vibrates with every touch of her delicate palm.

The hardest thing in the world for Lando is to stop when every nerve in his body screams for more, just to make sure she wants this as much as he does, even though it risks snapping her back to reason, forcing her to push him away all over again.

“If you don’t—”

She doesn’t even hesitate. “I do.”

With that, his hand is already in motion, dragging down her stomach, pushing between her thighs. He finds her soaked, warm, and slick against his fingertips, and it makes him want to howl, knowing that he still has the same effect on her; if anything, the time spent apart only made her miss his touch more.

“Shit,” he slurs, pressing two fingers against her clit, moving them in torturous circles. “Missed seeing you this needy in the morning.”

She hums, thighs twitching. “Techincally, it’s not morning anymore.”

Lando shakes his head in disbelief, “That smart mouth,” his fingers slip lower, teasing at her entrance but never pushing in, just pressing there, feeling the way she opens up for him.

For a moment, his fingers stay right there to tease her, barely giving what she wants, what she’s silently begging for with the way her hips roll forward. Agonizingly slow, he pushes in, finding her so ready for him and so fucking tight, that Lando swears he could lose his mind just from feeling her in his hands.

The girl huffs out a breath, her frustration evident as she glares up at him, “Lando.”

“Yes, love?” he uses his fingers to press further just a little more, but never enough, feeling her walls hugging him impatiently.

She bites her lip, a flush creeping down her neck, and he knows she hates the way he’s making her ask for it.

Her voice is sharper next time she speaks, “You win. Now stop being a dick.”

Lando smirks, dipping down to press a kiss to her shoulder, dragging his teeth along her skin before pulling back to look at her. “I don’t know,” he says thoughtfully, fingers curling lightly inside her pussy, enough to make her whimper. “I kinda like seeing you like this.”

She narrows her eyes at him, but it’s ruined by the way she starts panting when he finally, finally, glides his fingers in and out, her body agreeing with everything he has to offer. His thumb presses against her clit, rubbing her wetness against it as he watches her fall apart, her hands clinging onto him for support.

“Fuck,” she cries, head tipping back, and Lando swears he’s never seen anything more beautiful.

“Yeah, fuck,” he agrees, leaning in to kiss the corner of her mouth, and then her jaw. Her back arches instantly, a moan spilling from her lips as her nails dig into his arms, while he’s going faster, agonizingly so, dragging his fingers in and out, feeling how her body fights to keep him in. “This what you needed?”

She quickly turns her head from side to side, fingernails scratching along the skin his shoulders. “More,” she whispers, already out of breath. “Wanna feel you.”

Lando pulls his fingers out, watching the way her slick clings to them in the rich color of the afternoon light. He blows out the breath of air he was holding, trapping her thighs in his grasp as he lines himself up, the tip of his cock dragging through the wetness pooling between her legs.

“Well, if that’s what you want, that’s what you get, baby. Wanna see you drip on it,” he muses, pressing just barely inside before pulling back out, coating himself in her slick. “See how much you missed me.”

She whines, hips jerking up.

The grin on Lando’s face widens. “There you go, you beauty.”

She meets his eyes, pupils blown wide, lips swollen from his kisses. Seeing her like that, squirming under him, throws Lando into a spiral. For now, he has no idea where this moment will take them. All he knows is that he wants to make the most of it, to memorize her body lines and the sound of her moans, because once the haze fades and clarity takes its place, anything is possible.

And that terrifies him.

Sinking into her feels like homecoming, and the sweet stretch is making both of them whine in unison, cling onto each other. He swears under his breath as her walls constrict around his length, her mouth falling open in a breathy gasp.

“Holy shit.”

She’s so full of him, just like she wanted, the feeling even better than she remembers.

Lando presses a kiss to her jaw, his hands holding her waist tight enough to leave faint marks behind. “Not letting you go ever again,” he says with his lips glued to her skin like he’s in a trance, voice strained as he fights to keep control of his own body.

She nods, barely able to realize what’s she agreeing on, mind buzzing with thoughts of him, him, only him. “Promise?”

Lando sighs, pulling out slowly, almost all the way before sinking back in. The sound alone — that lazy, wet, messy drag of his cock leaving her, again and again — enough to turn him into a savage man. He watches, entranced, as the evidence of how much she wants him spills down her slit, glistening and painting her inner thighs.

In answer to her plea, Lando links his pinky finger with hers, his hand covering hers entirely. “Promise you, baby. You’re fucking unreal,” he rasps.

Waiting for her was pure torture, but the thought that this can be over before it even properly begins, forces him to still inside her then pull out entirely, his cock, flushed and soaked, resting against her thigh, leaving more of their mess behind. He grips the base, stroking himself once, careful, watching as her empty cunt clenches in his absence, her body desperate to be filled again.

“I’m so glad I got drunk,” says Lando, tracing his fingertips through the wetness between her legs. He presses a long finger back inside her, for his own pleasure, only to feel how impatient she is.

She cries out, thighs snapping shut around his wrist, back arching off the couch. “Yeah, me too,” she blinks up to him, her sincerity spurring Lando on.

He adds another finger as a reward, fucking into her deeper, his other hand stroking his cock in time with her gasps.

“We were always gonna end up here, weren’t we?” asks Lando, his hand working her faster now, watching as she writhes beneath him.

She lets out a choked moan, but can’t answer, too busy rolling her hips against his movements.

“Me, apologizing,” Lando continues, sounding so out of breath, “While you moan my name. Like always, is that right?”

“Lan,” she warns.

“Juuust like that. Look at you,” he chuckles, watching the way her body responds, getting covered in a sweaty layer of goosebumps, and the way her thighs tremble. “As desperate as ever.”

She whimpers, pushing up onto her elbows, dazed and itching to see what he’s doing to her. And the sight makes her pulse race: Lando between her legs, his fingers moving inside her, fucking her with a contrasting gentle force, while his other hand works over his cock, slick and hard, ready to stretch her all over again.

His eyes flick up to hers, dark and hungry, lips parted as he watches her descending into despair, slowly but surely. He drags his fingers out, just to press them back in, firmly, watching her body tense, making her whine louder.

“That’s it, my sweet girl,” he praises, voice subdued and teasing. “Feel it,” his strokes on himself grow lazier, drawing out the moment. “Feel me.”

She nods frantically, her thighs so close to give up from so much shaking. “Not… enough.”

Lando mewls, biting his lip as he watches her squirm, his patience hanging by a thread. “No?” he asks amused, pulling his fingers out and lining himself up again. “Let’s do something about it then. Show you how sorry I am, hm?”

He pushes back inside without any warning in one fluid motion, and the sensation wrecks both of them at the same time. She’s always so fucking tight, but soaked enough that there’s no resistance, just the messy slide of him stretching her open with every inch.

“Shit,” his voice is barely a sound, more like a guttural groan as he bottoms out, his hands finding their way back home, on her hips.

The heat of her, the way she pulses around him, has his heart racing relentlessly, and their sounds fill the living room every time they move together. Lando grits his teeth, withdrawing just halfway before thrusting back in, harder each time.

She gasps, her body craving him, like she can’t get enough. “More.”

He snarls, pace picking up, his hips snapping against hers, skin meeting skin in a rhythm that’s almost punishing. “More?” Lando asks in amazement, “You fucking take everything I give you, and you still want more?”

She nods, dragging her hands down his back, nails leaving marks that burn, but it only spurs him on, thankful she gives him something he could feel for hours after they’re done.

“Always more,” she whimpers, legs wrapping weakly around his waist, pulling him deeper. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she yammers. “Feels so. Good,” she chokes on the last word, lifting her hips in desperation.

Lando is close to sobbing at this point, slamming into her, his control unraveling by the second. “Good girl. Gonna make you come so fucking hard you’ll feel me every time you blink.”

Her whines break into cries as he fucks her harder, each thrust hitting the exact spot inside her where she needs him most. His hand slips between them, fingers finding her clit, rubbing her in messy circles, just to see her fall prey to the pleasure that only he can give her.

“Yes,” she nods, her body keep moving on its own to meet his. “Yes, I’m so close. Don’t stop!”

He is far too hypnotized by the way she loses it under him, demanding more and more with each passing second. Lando’s hands move then to encircle her waist, squeezing gently before sliding higher up her ribs, and finally to her breasts. They don’t rest there for too long, though, as she grabs his wrists and moves them around her neck, pulling his face right above hers. Her legs tighten tighter around him, and her palm cups his ass cheeks, pressing him deeper into her.

“That bad?” he asks her, and all she can do is nod again, speechless. “Come on, then. Wanna feel you drench my—"

Lando can’t even finish his sentence as her moans get louder, a blinding pleasure tearing through her in waves, over and over again, too intense to hold back. She cries out, back arching, body shaking she squirts, soaking both of them.

“Ah, shit. Shit shit shit!” Lando’s voice is wrecked, his hips stuttering as he watches her welcoming the euphoria.

The sight, the feel of her pulsing around him, squeezing him so tight has the power to destroy him. He barely manages a few more thrusts before he breaks, burying himself deep, groaning as he spills inside her, warmth flooding her walls. His body shudders against hers, muscles tensing, pleasure rolling through him in waves just as endless as hers. His hands are holding on to her like she’s the only thing tethering him to the earth. And right now, she is.

For them, the time stops. They just breathe each other in, their bodies locked together, still vibrating. He can feel everything, from the soft rise and fall of her chest to the tiny aftershocks still making her pussy throb around him, pulling him deeper even though he’s already buried to the hilt. It makes Lando gasp softly, dragging his lips lazily over her jaw.

His fingers brush along her side once they manage to catch their breaths. “You okay?” Lando’s voice is low, lightly dipped in concern at her sudden silence.

She nods weakly, eyes snapping open, a satisfied little hum escaping her lips. “Okay,” she breathes out, lovingly tracing her fingers along his spine.

Lando smiles mischievously, “Okay.”

Before she can register what he’s doing, he grabs one of her legs and pulls it up, resting it over his shoulder, changing the angle entirely.

“The fuck?” her inquire is startled, but it quickly turns into something else the moment he starts moving, the new position making everything tighter, deeper. Heaven.

His grin is downright devilish. “Not done,” he informs her matter-of-factlty.

To that, Lando’s hands settle firmly back on her hips, pinning her in place before he draws back and thrusts into her measured at first, the kind of stroke that leaves her breathless.

Somehow, the finish line turns into a brand new start, and all she can do is brace for it.

“Oh, my—Lando!” her stomach twists, fingers grasping at nothing, forced to cling to the cushions because she can’t reach him like this. The position keeps her wide open for him, helpless, unable to do anything but take it.

Lando hums, his grip tightening. “You’re so fucking pretty like this. Spread wider for me,” he instructs. “Can you give me one more?”

She whimpers, barely able to think, let alone answer, as he starts pounding into her, his rhythm relentless. Every thrust knocks the breath from her lungs, her body struggling to keep up with the sheer intensity of it, but somehow excited and so willing to push the limits.

“Please,” it’s both a cry and a plea, but she doesn’t even know what she’s begging for.

“Obsessed with those pretty noises. Just take it, baby,” he breathes, driving into her, pressing a kiss to her temple.

His grip shifts then, spreading her even wider, forcing her open until there’s nowhere for her to run. His pace slows just for a fraction, not out of mercy, but because he wants to feel every inch of her hugging him, wants her to feel how deep he is, how there’s no part of her he isn’t claiming.

And then he sees it.

Right there, in the soft plane of her lower stomach. Every time he pushes in, there’s a faint, tantalizing bulge, proof of just how deep he goes; his brain short-circuits. The sight of it has him helpless, hunger twisting tight in his gut, making his cock twitch inside her.

“Fucking hell,” his voice is nothing but raw, shattered arousal. He can’t help himself, instinctively bringing his wide palm to press down on it, applying the slightest pressure, feeling himself inside her from the outside.

“Fuck’s sake, Lando,” her moans turn high, her body jerking as if there is no such thing as too much pleasure.

“You feel that, baby?” Lando’s eyes are wild, rolling his hips a bit slower now, pushing so far inside her that she swears she can feel him in her throat. “Feel how fucking deep I am?”

She nods, tears beading in the corners of her eyes, her hands clawing harder at the sheets because it’s too much.

His forehead falls forward, resting on hers. “Forgive me.”

A simple — yet not really — plea, wrapped in something devastatingly tender. It makes her stomach flip, makes her heart ache in a way that feels too big for her body. She clenches around him involuntarily, and he groans, his grip on her hips tightening.

Her leg slides down his waist, hands instantly flying around his back, pulling him impossibly closer, her lips brushing against his jaw as she nods. “Please, Lando…”

“I need you,” he says, “Need you by my side when I win. Need you by my side when I fuck up. When I’m flying so high it feels like I’ll never come down.”

The sweat blends with the smell and the desperation behind his confession, and somehow, the moment feels endless, even though both of them know it quickly approaches the end.

“Need you when it gets too loud, when I can’t tell what’s real and what’s just noise. Need you when I wake up, and when I go to sleep. Just… need my pretty girl that knows me better than anyone,” he praises, pressing his palm firmer against her stomach, feeling the way she squeezes him from the inside. “Need to fuck you like this every day, baby. To be the one that drives you mad. Please. Please, forgive me.”

His words send a shockwave through her, a moan ripping from her throat. Lando hisses, thrusting deep again, watching the way his cock bulges against his palm, and the way her body welcomes him with no resistance.

He is right there, balancing on the knife’s edge of pleasure, and it’s almost infuriating. His whole body shakes with the effort of holding back, but he can’t tear his eyes away from where they’re joined. The sight has his stomach tensing, his cock throbbing inside her. The slick glide, the way she clenches around him every time he grinds in deep, and the way her body drags him back in with every pull out it’s fucking unbearable.

“Baby, I can’t—” she drags him deeper into the heat of her release, her weak arms pulling him impossibly closer as if she’ll disintegrate without him.

That does it for Lando, shattering whatever control he has left. His rhythm stutters, his thrusts turning erratic as the pressure in his spine explodes.

“Fuck” he groans as his release bursts inside her, hot and thick, flooding her walls. His hips jerk against her as wave after wave crashes through him, his cock pulsing with every sharp, overwhelming aftershock.

But even as his body shudders with euphoria, even as his breath stutters against her throat, his hips keep moving.

“I’m sorry. So fucking sorry,” he rasps, pressing into her with hard grinds, still spilling inside her, his body demanding more. “Fucking hell, I can’t stop.”

She gasps, over-sensitive but still achingly wet for him, her body responding to every push, every deep roll of his hips.

“I know, I know,” she says, wrapping herself around him.

“Yes? Just a little more,” he begs, “Please, just let me feel you a little longer.”

His movements slow eventually, each thrust turning sluggish, drawn out, until he can’t physically move anymore. The last of his pleasure drains from him, leaving his body heavy, and utterly spent. Finally, he collapses on top of her, his face buried in the crook of her neck, breathing ragged, skin covered in a generous layer of sweat. His natural scent sends her home in an instant, and all she wants right now is for time to freeze in place.

She doesn’t say anything, just exhales softly and presses a kiss to his temple, then another to his cheek, her lips brushing over his damp skin. She moves tenderly, kissing his jaw, his eyelids, the bridge of his nose. He’s still inside her, still holding onto her like she’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

People talk about the quiet before the storm, but the quiet after is much more terrifying. It gives you time to see the destruction it left behind, and there’s nothing you can do but watch. She has always hated feeling powerless, and it’s only when she tilts her head, pressing her lips to his forehead, that she feels it. A warm, wet drop against her collarbone. Then another.

Her fingers still where they were stroking through his curls. “Lando?” she whispers, pulling back just enough to look at him, hoping that her suspicions will not come true. But that’s when she sees the raw emotion in his eyes, the way his brows are furrowed, the silent tears slipping down his cheeks.

He looks almost startled, like he hadn’t even realized he was crying. His chest rises and falls unevenly, his lips parting slightly as if he wants to say something, but nothing comes out.

She cups his face instinctively, her thumb catching a tear before it can fall, just like he did last night. “Lan…” she speaks a bit louder this time, “Look at me.”

He shakes his head in response, his hands gripping her waist like he’s afraid she’ll disappear again, this time for more than two months.

Lando presses his forehead to hers, closing his eyes, feeling more tears running down his cheeks, “Tell me it’s not too late for us,” he pleads, pulling back to finally meet her gaze. “Tell me I haven’t fucked this up beyond repair.”

Beneath the surface, the pain still lingers. But much deeper down, their bond is still knotted tightly, and even though the rope is taut, ready to snap at any small gust of wind, the fact that she’s still in his arms is enough for the rope to become the binder that holds them together. She can’t name the feeling without giving him everything all at once. Instead, she just brushes her nose against his.

“I think we both know the answer to that.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ MASTERLIST . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Thank you for reading!

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toomanystoriessolittletime · 2 days ago

Text

With time

Summary: Owning a flower shop across the cemetery leaves you to meet a wide variety of people. Including Joel Miller.

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem. reader

Wordcount: 3.9k

Rating: T

Warnings: no outbreak AU, kind of a flower shop AU?, Sarah dies :( , strangers to friends to lovers, mentions of car accidents and injuries, angst, grief, mentions of attempted suicide, healing, fluff, a little bit of oblivious idiots, time jumps, mentions of pregnancy, just really fluffy at the end

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Full Masterlist // Joel Miller Masterlist

You had read about it in a newspaper.

A terrible car accident. A drunk driver hit a car, a father and daughter driving home after a soccer game her team had won. The father had been in a coma for three days, having to learn that his daughter had sadly not survived the accident after he finally woke up.

Sarah Miller.

A thirteen year old girl.

Dead because of a reckless drunk driver.

You remembered her and her father, how could you not?

Sarah used to ask you a million questions about every single flower and you always answered each and every one of them, loving the way her eye lit up every time she learned something new.

They visited your store occasionally, buying the brightest flowers for her Grandma who had passed away a couple years before. She had told you that her Grandma loved sunflowers before proceeding to beg her father to buy the biggest arrangement of sunflowers for her grandma’s birthday the last time they had been here.

You remembered the way her father had sighed seemingly annoyed, yet fighting against a smile before he had looked at you and asked you how much all the sunflowers would be.

You remembered thinking how handsome that man was. How happy, how… warm it felt when he looked at you, his brown eyes so full of life.

He somehow always seemed to be already looking at you before you could look at him and for a while you even thought maybe, maybe you should ask him out.

The man sitting in front of you in a wheelchair now was a much different version of the happy man you had met back then.

He looked broken.

Dark circles under his eyes, almost healed scratches littering the left side of his head. The man next to him, his brother Tommy was talking. Looking equally as exhausted but the look he gave his brother, Joel you learned, every now and then was downright devastating. As if he was waiting for his brother to shatter into a million pieces right in front of his eyes.

You knew they had waited as long as they could to arrange the funeral so Joel could be there. The funeral home had contacted you a week ago, explaining the situation and ordered flowers and arrangements.

The funeral would be tomorrow and the amount of flowers that had been ordered for the sad occasion was overwhelming even for you.

A sea of purple, pink and blue flowers had been delivered this morning and you and your employees would spend all day binding the flowers so they’d be ready tomorrow.

For Sarah.

A little girl taken way too soon from this world.

„We just wanted to check…“ Tommy Miller said again, gazing down at his brother whose eyes were fixed on something behind you.

„Everything will be ready for tomorrow. I’ll take care of everything myself,“ you said gently and saw him swallow, before he nodded.

„Joel?“ He asked and the man blinked once before he looked up at him.

„Anything you wanna add?“ He only shook his head, before he looked away again and Tommy closed his eyes as he took a deep breath. His eyes were watery when he opened them again.

„Thank you,“ he whispered as he stepped behind the wheelchair and began to turn it.

„I am so sorry for your loss,“ you said quietly and for the first time Joel looked at you.

The amount of pain in his eyes made it hard for you to breathe as he looked at you, before his eyes glanced again at something behind your head before his brother led him out of the shop.

When you turned around you noticed the big vase of sunflowers behind you.

The shop was busy. Strangely busy.

It was a normal Friday afternoon, at least you thought so. No special holidays were coming up, yet the people kept flooding into your little store.

Sure, the location of your shop right across the cemetery guaranteed business for you. It was one of the reasons you had invested in it almost six years ago. But lately, with the start of your social media page (well, your niece Ellie started the page for you) people from all over town came to buy your flowers. You even had orders for a hand full of weddings later this year.

Business was good. So good that you were thinking about expanding and maybe adding a greenhouse to start growing some of your own flowers instead of ordering everything from the various flower markets you were working with.

You were in the back, working on your order for the next couple of weeks when Kat, one of the girls working in the front asked you if we had any purple flowers in the back. You nodded, knowing you saw some purple hyacinths earlier, telling her you’d look and bring them to the front when you found them.

And there in one of the back corners they were, beautiful purple hyacinths you had ordered the week before.

Ever since that rainy day that October you found yourself adding an order of purple flowers to your orders.

Never in your life had you seen a sea of so much purple flowers at a funeral. Not only from your shop but delivered from all across town, paying respect to a little girl called Sarah, taken too soon from her life.

You had lingered in the far back during the funeral, hiding under a big umbrella, finding yourself unable to just walk away. There was so much grief and sorrow in the air. The rain hadn’t stopped all day. As if some higher power was crying too.

Yet in the moment where you saw the wheelchair that had a grieving father sitting in it being pushed towards the grave, stopping so he could say goodbye to his little girl for one last time the sun had come out, a rainbow forming within minutes. You heard the sob all the way to where you were standing, tears springing into your eyes before you decided it was time to leave.

You found yourself drawn to her grave since that day.

And one day, after noticing that Sarah Miller never had gotten new flowers after the ones of her funeral had withered, you started bringing her flowers. Every other week.

Occasionally Tommy Miller, her uncle, came in to buy some daisies. You would clean them from the grave once they too had withered, replacing them with a fresh batch of seasonal purple flowers.

It must have been her favourite colour form the amount of flowers at her funeral.

But months after the funeral Tommy had stopped coming too. You hadn’t seen him since.

And you hadn’t seen her father Joel in the four years since he left your shop the day before the funeral, broken and grieving.

You were sure he had his reasons, finding yourself responsible somehow to spend some time with the girl until her family was ready to visit her.

You were quite surprised to find Joel lingering at the counter of your shop when you brought out the hyacinths. Telling Kat that you would take care of this she nodded, already walking towards a new customer who needed some help.

„Mr. Miller,“ you said softly and he turned around, looking at you, surprised.

„Joel, please,“ he said with a tight lipped smile.

He looked…. Older. Deep lines around his eyes, his unkempt facial hair had some greys.

He looked like the weight of the world rested on his shoulder. Which did not mean he wasn’t attractive anymore. The opposite really.

„Joel,“ you said gently, „You wanted some purple flowers?“ you asked and he nodded.

„Yeah. Uh…. I want a small bouquet of flowers. Purple, pink maybe blue?“ He asked, seeming nervous.

You gave him a small smile.

„Of course. You want to chose the flowers or should I? Apart from these of course. I do not have any other purples left i am afraid,“ you gestured to the hyacinths you had laid down on the counter.

„You, please Ma’m,“ he said and you nodded. Taking deep breath when you turned away from him you drifted through your shop, reaching for some gerberas and snapdragons and some greens to fill out the bouquet before you made your way back to the counter.

He was still leaning against the counter when you got back, looking at the hyacinths. Slowly you began to arrange the flowers, all under the watchful eyes of him.

„I never thanked you for all the flowers. For the work you did with them at,“ he cleared his throat, „at the funeral,“ he said quietly.

You finished binding the flowers before you looked up at him.

„She deserved to have the best of the best that day. She was a special girl,“ you said as you looked at him and he nodded, closing his eyes as he took a deep breath. When his eyes opened you could see just how hard this was for him.

His life had changed in a matter of seconds and he was still dealing with the aftermath.

You had read about the trial.

The driver had been the CEO of some big tech company, now in prison until he would die there. You also read about the settlement after he had been sued for wrongful death, rumoured to be in the tens of millions.

„She was a special girl,“ Joel whispered and you found yourself reaching over, putting your hand on top of his. He looked at you then and for a moment you forgot that you were in the middle of your busy flower shop.

„What do I owe you?“ He asked and you shook your head.

„It’s a gift. A birthday gift for her,“ you added quietly and you could read the surprise in his eyes. You knew it would be her eighteenth birthday today.

Joel Miller looked at you, really looked at you then.

You have him a small smile and he released a shaky breath before ever so slowly the corners of his mouth lifted.

„Thank you. She’ll love it,“ he said.

You watched him as he took the bouquet from you, giving you one last glance before he walked out of the shop and across the street.

„You know him?“ Lisa, one of your employees and one of your closest friends asked after he left.

You shook your head.

„Not really. His daughter died in a car crash some years ago and I did the flowers for the funeral. Never seen so many flowers in my life,“ you said.

„She the girl you bring flowers to?“ She asked and you nodded.

Lisa hummed.

„He’s hot,“ she added and you rolled your eyes with an oh my god before you disappeared back into the back into your office, still hearing her cackling.

You wondered, if you would see Joel Miller again.

„The contractor is here,“ Lisa knocked on your door and you looked up from where you were cutting roses to arrange them for small bouquets later. You nodded with a smile, having heard that the architect you had hired for the remodelling of the shop and the two greenhouses had arrived already.

Washing your hands you took a look at the small mirror over the sink, deciding that you looked okay enough to meet with them.

The architect, Tess, had come highly recommended by a friend of yours who had remodelled his office space a year ago. The two of you had clicked immediately and you loved the plans she had worked out.

With the loan worked out now all that was left were the permits.

Tess had said that she worked with a small contractor business that was still pretty knew but did great work. And you decided to trust her.

Hugging her when you saw her you were excited to start this new project.

Since launching the online shop a couple months ago you had hired additional help. Business was running more than good and you were ready to expand it.

„This is the contractor I told you about, Joel Miller,“ she said and your eyebrows raised in surprise when the man turned around.

„Oh, Hi Joel,“ you said with a wide smile. He chuckled as he waved rather awkwardly.

„You know each other?“ Tess asked, also surprised.

Oh yes, you knew each other. Since that day where Joel had picked up the flower bouquet for Sarah’s birthday he had been back regularly. Every two to four weeks. Buying fresh flowers for Sarah before he walked towards the cemetery.

Once, he hadn’t been in for almost four weeks it was him who found you at her grave, having just put in fresh new flowers under the white marble stone that read Sarah’s name.

You still couldn’t point your finger as to why you were so drawn to her, but you decided to not question it anymore.

Joel had been surprised to see you there. And you had rather embarrassed confessed that you had brought her flowers ever since her funeral so she had something pretty with her.

He had invited you for a coffee after and ever since that day you would call Joel Miller a friend.

„I literally told you yesterday I was meeting up with a contractor, you could have told me,“ you said with narrowed eyes. He just winked at you.

„Now where would be the fun in that, Darlin’?“ He said and you rolled your eyes, shaking your head with a small smile. Tess had a strange expression on her face when you looked at her and you made a sorry face.

„We know each other. We’re….“ You looked at him, not really knowing how to label it. You were friends. Kind of? You don’t really spend much time together. He comes into your shop to buy flowers for his daughter’s grave and sometimes you have coffee. And, though it could be your imagination, sometimes he even flirted with you.

„We’re friends,“ Joel said looking at Tess and you felt like you were missing something between them before Tess turned to you, smile plastered on her face.

„Let’s talk about your new flower shop?" She asked, a little forced and you nodded, before you followed her outside, Joel following behind you.

The meeting was a little awkward.

There was a tension in the air which definitely did not have to do with you but with whatever was going on between Joel and Tess. It left you in your thoughts as you closed down the shop for the night, having pondered over it ever since both Tess and Joel had left.

Construction plans were finished, now you were waiting for the permit before construction could start, hopefully within the next two months.

Were they a couple?

They didn’t seem like a couple. Not that it was any of your business. You were his… friend. He said so. Not that you would mind being more, but you were way to shy and awkward to ask him out. You weren’t even sure if he would be interested. God, why was being an adult so fucking hard?

You jumped when you heard a knock on the door, looking up to see Joel stand there. He was still wearing the red flannel shirt he had on when he left and you frowned before you made your way over to the door, unlocking it to let him in.

„Is everything okay?“ You asked. He walked further into the store, hand rubbing over his neck as you locked the door again.

„I want to apologise,“ he said. You tilted your head.

„For me and Tess earlier. We’re…. It’s complicated. And it made the whole thing awkward,“ he explained. You walked towards the counter, jumping up so you could sit.

„You don’t owe me any explanation. But if you want to talk, I’m here,“ you said and he sighed, before he followed you, sitting down on the counter next to you.

You were sitting for a while before he began to talk.

„I went into a deep hole when Sarah died,“ he began after a while. You looked up at him.

„The day after her funeral, I wanted…. I didn’t see any point of living when my little girl wasn’t here anymore. I was ready. I really was but at the last moment I flinched,“ he said any you inhaled sharply as he brought his fingers up to rub over his temple. You had noticed the scar but would never have asked.

„I went to a clinic in Wyoming for a year. Worked through the injuries from the accident and the grief. Tommy, my brother, he couldn’t take it and enlisted. He only got back last year.

Anyways, it’s where I met Tess. She was at the clinic too. Not my story to tell but she lost someone too and needed some help to get better. I think…. I think we bonded over what we lost and became… intimate?“ He looked at you from the corner of his eyes but you just nodded.

„Thing is I told her from the beginning that this would never become more. She’s…. She’s a great woman but she also reminds me of the worst time of my life. We stopped seeing each other when I left the clinic, but she moved here when she got a new job and I think she still thought that there could be something more between me and her. So she’s been giving construction work to my new business and because I want this business to succeed I took it. I talked to her again today. I think she understands now but… fuck, I’m an asshole really,“ he sighed and you reached over, putting your hand on top of his.

„Why are you telling me all this?“ You asked softly and he looked at you. He was so close to you.

„I wanted to ask you out,“ he whispered and you gulped.

„I was talking to Sarah on.. on that day on our way back home, asking her if she would be okay with me asking you out. You don’t know this but she really really liked you. Always kept talking about how you explained each and every flower to her. And I… I haven’t been in a real relationship with any woman since Sarah’s mom left when she was two years old.“

He turned his hand, palm now facing upwards so he could take your hand in his as he took a shaky breath in.

„She said she’d love it if you got to spend more time with us. She was so happy and then…“ he shook his head and you saw a tear roll down his cheek. Carefully you reached up, brushing it away.

There were tears in your eyes too.

All of this was brand-new information to you. He wanted to ask you out? All those years ago?

„It took a long time for me to heal. To get my shit together. And yet I still haven’t asked you out,“ he said, your hand still on his cheek as he looked at you.

„Then do it,“ you whispered, with a small smile.

„Yeah?“ He murmured and you nodded.

„Do you want to have dinner with me?“ He asked and your smile widened.

„Anytime,“ you said, tilting your chin up, eyes dropping close when his lips softly found yours.

You found yourself sitting on a picnic blanket close to Sarah’s grave. It was a nice afternoon and you had decided to take your lunch break outside, munching on your apple until your real lunch would get here.

Tomorrow, after two years of construction, your life would change. The new flower shop would re-open and you would finally be able to grow your own flowers in the green houses behind it.

But not only that, in three days you would move in with Joel. Earlier this year he had bought the old Smith property next to where your flower shop was build on. It was a big piece of land with a farm that he had been fixing up these last months.

Miller brothers construction really became Tommy Miller construction in the last year with Joel putting all his focus on the building of your new flower shop.

That and…. Him wanting time to spend with his girlfriend.

Not that he needed to work. You learned that the settlement out of the lawsuit was over 16 million dollars. Money he hadn’t touched until he finally knew what he wanted to do with it.

He had started a girls soccer camp in Sarah’s name that was benefiting families with lower income. And he loved every single second of it.

Loving Joel Miller was like the world finally clicked into place for you. He was the one piece that you had always searched for without even knowing. After you went on your first date there hasn’t been a day where you had not seen each other.

You were so sickeningly in love with each other, even Tess, who had been angry at Joel for a while after he told her again that there was no future for the two of them, had to admit that. She was now one of your closest friends, something Joel still found a bit weird sometimes.

„Starting without me?“ You heard Joel behind you and you looked over your shoulder, seeing him carry a bag of take out with him before he sat down next to you. He kissed you, once, twice, three times before he let himself fall on his back with a groan, taking you with him, making you laugh.

„You were taking too long and I was too hungry,“ you pouted, leaning with your arm on his chest, looking down at him. One of his hands came to rest on your lower stomach, the belly only barely visible by now.

You had learned two months ago that you were pregnant.

He wrapped one arm around you and you laid down with your head on his chest as you looked up into the blue sky.

„You think Sarah would like a brother or a sister?“ You asked, his hand still on your belly.

„I think she would say she didn’t care but deep down she would want a sister,“ he said and you smiled.

„She would have loved you being her mom“ he whispered and you looked up at him, with tears in your eyes.

„I’d have loved that too,“ you said quietly and he kissed your forehead.

You were about to doze off when you felt him move, too tired to open your eyes to check what he was doing.

„Hey,“ he whispered, his fingers brushing over your cheek. You scrunched up your nose before you opened your eyes to look at him, finding him holding up a ring with his other hand.

„Marry me?“ He asked and sobbed a yes, before you let him kiss you.

#my fic #joel miller #Joel Miller x fem. reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction #tlou #tlou fanfiction

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alohajix · 2 days ago

Text

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑪𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑻𝒂𝒑𝒆

Description: she said she wasn’t nervous. She said she'd never done this before. But then he walked in—and made her forget every lie she told herself. The Casting Tape — you only need to watch it once to come back for more.

Warnings: this one-shot includes explicit sexual content, including fingering, oral sex (M/F), face-fucking, rough grinding, dirty talk, praise kink, light choking, spanking, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), and graphic language. Readers +18.

Words count: ~ 7K.

I understand you guys really enjoyed “First Time for Everything”. So here’s a new one-shot I've been working on for a while, featuring pornstar!harry once again.

please enjoyyy💕

*****

I almost didn’t walk through the door. It looked too normal from the outside—just a nondescript black building sandwiched between a vape shop and a custom auto wrap place. No sign. No logo. Just a metal door and a tiny keypad. I stood there for a full minute, staring at my reflection in the door’s narrow glass panel, wondering what the hell I was doing. My fingers fidgeted with the zipper on my hoodie as I debated bailing. But then I remembered rent. And how many hours I’d spent reading that post.

“Paid casting opportunity. Professional, safe, filmed. No pressure to continue. Just be yourself.”

So I buzzed in. A soft click, and I stepped inside. The air was cool, sterile, quiet. A short hallway led to a room that looked more like a YouTube set than anything porn-related—white walls, gray backdrop, soft box lights aimed at a plain black leather couch. A camera was already set up on a tripod, its little red light blinking lazily like it was waiting. There was no one else in the room, just a low table with a water bottle and a clipboard. I approached it like it might bite.

“Hey there,” a voice called from behind me—low, male, casual. “You can grab a seat. We’ll start in a second.”

I turned to find a guy with a headset leaning against the doorframe, sipping coffee. He looked more like someone who worked in tech support than adult film, and he barely glanced at me. That helped a little. I gave him a tight smile and sat down on the couch, tucking one leg under the other. The camera stared back at me. I wiped my sweaty palms on my denim skirt.

“You go by your real name or a stage name?” the voice asked.

I hesitated. “Stage name.”

He chuckled. “Smart. What should we call you?”

“…Lola.” I don’t know where it came from. I didn’t even know anyone named Lola.

“Cute,” he said. “Alright, Lola. We’re just gonna ask you a few questions. Keep your eyes on the camera, speak clearly, be yourself.”

I nodded once. The camera light turned solid red.

“Tell us how old you are and why you’re here.”

My voice came out a little too fast. “Twenty-two. I—uh—I heard about this through a friend of a friend. Thought it might be… interesting.”

“And have you done anything like this before?”

I forced a smile. “Not professionally.”

He chuckled again, friendly but disinterested. “Good answer. So—this is a soft casting. No pressure to do anything you’re not comfortable with. We just want to see how you come across on camera. If it feels natural, maybe we’ll try a short chemistry test.”

My stomach flipped. “Chemistry test?”

“With a partner,” he clarified. “Clothed or not. Touching or not. Totally up to you.”

I swallowed hard. “And who’s the partner?”

“Hey, man,” the guy said suddenly, glancing over my shoulder. “You mind stepping in for a quick test?”

I didn’t hear footsteps. I felt them. Slow. Heavy. Purposeful. And then I heard his voice.

“Yeah. I’ve got time.” I turned. And immediately forgot how to breathe.

He walked in wearing a black T-shirt and sweatpants, his hair tucked under a gray beanie, tattooed arms on full display. Calm. Comfortable. Like he belonged here. And when his eyes met mine—green, curious, knowing—I had to look away before I gave something away.

I knew who he was. Everyone who’s ever dipped into amateur porn knew who he was. He wasn’t just a pornstar—he was the pornstar. The one known for making people cry in the best way possible. The one who ruined girls for normal guys. The one I may or may not have watched the night I sent my application in.

“Hi,” he said softly, voice like silk. “I’m Harry.” Of course he was.

I tried to remember how to smile. “Hi.”

He looked me over—slowly, respectfully, but definitely. His gaze dragged from my hoodie to my bare thighs, then up to my lips before meeting my eyes again.

“You okay to keep going?” he asked. “Or just here to talk?” His tone was soft. Patient.

I bit my lip. I should’ve said no. I should’ve kept it simple. But the way he was looking at me… “Let’s try,” I said quietly.

His mouth curled into a half-smile. “We’ll go slow.”

He sat beside me on the couch, leaving just enough space between us that it felt intentional. His thigh brushed mine every time I shifted, and I wasn’t sure if it was on purpose—but I hoped it was.

The camera was still rolling. “You nervous?” he asked, his voice low and almost amused.

“A little,” I admitted. “You’re not exactly a nobody.”

He smiled at that—soft, slow, like he was letting the compliment soak into his skin.

“Well, I’ve done a few of these,” he said, tilting his body slightly toward me. “So if you want to stop at any point, you say the word. We good on that?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Safe word or something?”

“We can use red. If you want to pause, say yellow. But honestly? Just talk to me. I listen.”

God, that shouldn’t have made my stomach twist—but it did. His hand landed gently on my knee. Just a touch. Nothing dirty. But the weight of it made my heart skip.

“Can I touch you a little more?” he asked.

I swallowed and nodded. “Yes.”

He slid his hand up my thigh, slow and deliberate, until his fingers curled around the bare skin just beneath the hem of my skirt. His pinky brushed the side of my underwear. He didn’t move further. He just… held me.

“See? You’re already shaking a little,” he said, voice soft like a secret.

“I’m not,” I lied.

His thumb moved lazily across my thigh. “You are. That’s okay, though. Nervous is normal. But you look good nervous.”

I smirked despite myself. “Is that your line?”

“No,” he said, leaning in just a little. “That’s the truth.”

His other hand reached up, fingers playing with the zipper of my hoodie. He didn’t pull it down right away—he just watched my face.

“Can I?”

I nodded again. “Yeah.”

He tugged the zipper down, slow as hell. I didn’t wear a bra on purpose—I’d told myself it was about being comfortable, but I’d also known what kind of job this was. I’d wanted to feel like I was ready for it, even if I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. He pushed the hoodie off my shoulders, revealing my thin tank top underneath—white, ribbed, tight. My nipples were already hard beneath the fabric.

His eyes dropped for half a second. “Fuck.”

“What?” I teased.

“You’re hot.” His voice dipped lower, rougher. “Didn’t expect that.”

I grinned. “You didn’t look me up before this?”

He leaned closer, lips near my ear. “Didn’t want to ruin the surprise.”

Fuck. That got to me. I shifted in my seat, squeezing my thighs together, and his hand didn’t miss it.

“You get turned on easily, don’t you?” he murmured.

“Only when someone says shit like that.”

He chuckled, and it vibrated straight through me. “Alright then. Let’s see how much you can take before we even get your clothes off.”

He turned to face me fully, his hand now resting between my thighs, thumb pressing lightly at the crease where leg met hip. I was still covered, but it felt dangerously intimate.

“Look at me,” he said. I did.

His hand moved to my waist, sliding under the hem of my shirt. His palm was warm on my bare skin, fingertips grazing my ribcage, tracing just under the curve of my breast. His thumb brushed upward, catching the edge of my nipple through the fabric—and I gasped, barely holding still.

“Sensitive?” he asked, eyes still locked on mine. I nodded, biting my lip.

He pinched lightly—just enough to make me jerk—and then soothed the spot with his palm.

“You’re already breathing like you’ve been at this for an hour.”

“Maybe I just like the way you touch,” I whispered.

He grinned again. “Yeah?”

His other hand cupped the back of my neck, fingers sliding into my hair as he leaned in. “I’m gonna kiss you now. Okay?”

I nodded. “Please.” And then he kissed me. Slow. Firm. One hand holding my jaw just right while the other teased under my shirt. His lips moved against mine like he had all the time in the world. He tasted like mint and something just a little bit sweet—god, it was unfair how good he was at this.

My mouth opened for him on instinct, tongue brushing his as he deepened the kiss. I whimpered before I meant to, and he smiled against my lips.

“There it is,” he murmured. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

He pulled me onto his lap. I didn’t even realize I’d moved until I felt his thighs beneath mine, the stretch of my skirt riding up, the thick press of him already hard beneath me.

“You wanna keep going?” he asked, hand splayed on my lower back.

“Yes.”

“You wanna keep your clothes on for now?”

I nodded again. “Let me stay like this.”

He gave a slow, approving nod. “Smart girl.”

I started to grind—tentatively, testing—and he held me tighter.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “That’s it. Just like that.”

His hands stayed on my waist, guiding me. My panties were soaked through already, and he hadn’t even touched me properly. His cock pressed up against my center through both layers, and the friction was delicious.

“Feel what you’re doing to me?” he whispered. I nodded. “Good. Don’t stop.” I didn’t.

I rocked against him slowly, rhythmically, trying to match the pace of his hands, trying not to let my moans get too loud. But the fabric was slick, and I was clenching around nothing, desperate for more. He leaned up to kiss me again, slower this time, while grinding back into me with little thrusts of his hips.

“You look so fucking pretty like this,” he whispered. “Using me to get yourself off. All clothed. So dirty, baby.”

God, baby—the way it rolled off his tongue nearly made me come.

“I wanna see you fall apart,” he said against my lips. “But not yet. Gotta take my time with you.”

I whimpered, hands clutching his shoulders. “Why?”

“‘Cause I want it to be unforgettable.”

I didn’t mean to drop to my knees. It just happened. One second, I was straddling him, moaning into his mouth, and the next, I was slipping down between his legs, hands trailing over his thighs like they belonged there. He didn’t stop me. Didn’t say a word—just leaned back on the couch and watched me with that slow-burning smirk, his chest rising and falling like he already knew what I was going to do next.

“You sure about this?” he asked, voice husky.

I nodded as I settled between his thighs, reaching for the waistband of his sweats. “You’ve been hard since I got here.”

His brow ticked up. “And you think that means you get to do something about it?”

I looked up at him, tilted my head innocently. “I know I do.”

He grinned. “Cocky.”

“I learned from the best,” I said, tugging his sweats down just enough to free him. And fuck.

I’d seen it before—on screens, in videos—but nothing prepared me for the way it looked up close. Thick, long, already leaking at the tip. Veins along the shaft. His entire body was unfair, but this? This was just cruel.

I wrapped my hand around him slowly.

“You gonna stare at it all day, or you gonna do something?” he teased.

I licked a long stripe from the base to the tip, just to shut him up. His breath caught.

“Mouth open,” he murmured. I obeyed, letting my tongue hang out as I stroked him slowly. He was heavy in my hand, warm and twitching, and when I finally took him into my mouth, I moaned like it was for me, not him.

“Fucking hell,” he groaned, his head tipping back. “You’re better than half the girls I’ve filmed with.”

I pulled back just enough to say, “That supposed to make me feel special?”

He looked down at me with a grin. “It should.” Then he shifted his hips forward a little, his hand slipping into my hair. “Hold still,” he said. “Let me fuck your mouth a little.”

I whimpered, nodding as he gathered my hair in his fist and guided me back down. His thrusts were slow at first, controlled, testing. He pushed past my lips and onto my tongue, letting me feel every inch. I hollowed my cheeks around him, drool already sliding down my chin. The angle made my throat ache—but I didn’t care. He watched every second.

“That’s it,” he praised. “Look at me. Eyes up. Fuck—just like that.” I moaned around him, and he groaned in return, gripping my hair tighter. “You like this?” he asked. “Being used a little?”

I blinked up at him, spit trailing from my lip to the base of his cock. “Yes.”

“How filthy are you, baby?”

I swallowed him deeper before answering. “Wanna choke on it.”

He smirked, that filthy edge sharpening in his eyes. “Greedy girl.”

He held my jaw and started to fuck into my mouth harder, sloppier. My mascara was running—I could feel it—and my knees were going numb, but I didn’t care. Not when he was groaning and panting above me, thumb wiping spit from the corner of my mouth.

“Open wider,” he growled. “Let me all the way in.”

I did. He pushed in until the tip hit the back of my throat, and I gagged—but he didn’t stop. He stayed there for a second, watching the tears spill down my cheeks before pulling back with a wet, obscene pop.

“Good girl,” he breathed. “Fuck, you’re perfect.” I blinked up at him, dazed and wrecked, lips puffy and slick. “You want me to come in your mouth?” he asked.

“No.” He raised a brow. “I want more than that.” He stared at me for a beat. Then he reached down, grabbed my arm, and pulled me gently to my feet.

“Take your clothes off.”

I hesitated, chest heaving. “All of them?”

“All of them,” he said softly. “Want to see what kind of mess I’ve made.”

I peeled off my hoodie first, even though it had already been unzipped. My tank top followed, sticky with sweat. Then my skirt. Then my panties—soaked, clinging to my thighs. His eyes drank me in.

“You’re soaked.”

“You made me like this.”

He stood up—slow, deliberate—and pressed a kiss to the corner of my mouth, then my neck, then lower, until he was kneeling in front of me.

“You ever squirt before?” he asked, voice low.

I swallowed hard. “No.”

He smirked. “Might today.” Then he leaned in and dragged his tongue across my inner thigh.

He didn’t go for my pussy right away. Instead, he kissed every inch around it—my thighs, the crease of my hip, the patch of skin just above my mound. His hands wrapped around my legs, holding me steady as he took his time. The anticipation had my stomach fluttering, my cunt clenching around nothing, desperate to be touched.

“Please,” I whispered, shifting.

He looked up at me from between my legs, his lips shiny with spit. “Yeah?”

I nodded, breath shaky. “I—I need—”

He slid one finger up my slit, slow as hell. “You need this?” he asked, teasing my clit with the lightest touch. “Or my mouth?”

“Both.”

He grinned. “Good answer.” Then he dove in.

His mouth latched around my clit like he’d missed it, like he owned it. His tongue flicked and sucked, alternating between slow pressure and fast strokes that made my legs tremble. I cried out, one hand gripping the back of the couch, the other tangled in his hair. He moaned against me when I tugged, and I felt it vibrate through my whole body.

“F-fuck,” I gasped. “Harry—”

“You taste so sweet,” he muttered between licks. “Could stay here all day.”

He pushed two fingers into me while his tongue kept working, curling them just right. My back arched off the couch, a moan ripping from my throat so loud I was sure the mic picked it up.

“That’s it,” he said. “Let them hear how good I’m making you feel.”

I was already on the edge, too fast, too intense—and he knew it.

“You close?” he asked, sliding his fingers faster, deeper, hitting every nerve ending I had.

I nodded, gasping. “Yes—yes—fuck, don’t stop—” He stopped. Pulled back. Fingers still inside me, but barely moving. I whimpered. “Why—”

“Cause I want you to come on my cock, not my tongue.”

“Fucking mean,” I whispered.

He smirked. “You like it.” I hated how right he was.

He stood and kicked off his sweats fully this time, leaving him completely naked—tall, lean, toned. Tattoos stretched across his chest, down his arms. His cock was heavy and thick, standing up proudly, still slick from my mouth. He grabbed a condom from the table behind him—but I stopped him with a hand on his wrist.

“Don’t,” I said softly. His eyes locked on mine.

“Are you sure?”

I nodded. “I’m clean. On the pill. I want to feel all of you.”

His jaw clenched. “Fuck, you’re gonna ruin me.”

He climbed back onto the couch, pulling me into his lap again. This time, we were both naked. Skin against skin. He lined himself up with one hand, the other gripping my waist.

“Take it slow,” he murmured. I did. I sank down on him inch by inch, gasping at the stretch, the burn, the way he filled me up so deep I thought I might break.

He kept eye contact the whole time. “Look at you,” he said. “Taking it so well.”

I whimpered when I bottomed out, thighs shaking.

“So fucking tight,” he growled. “You weren’t made for this, were you?”

I moaned. “Maybe I was made for you.” That broke something in him.

His hands gripped my hips, and he started to move—slow thrusts upward that hit just right. I rocked against him, chasing friction, rolling my hips as he fucked up into me.

“Say my name,” he ordered.

“Harry.”

“Louder.”

“Harry.”

“Tell me how it feels.”

“So fucking good,” I gasped. “You’re so deep—fuck—it’s so good.” His hand came up to my throat, not squeezing, just holding.

“You’re gonna come like this?” he asked. “Like a needy little slut in my lap?”

I nodded frantically. “Yes—please, I need it—I need to come—”

“Then come.”

I shattered. The orgasm hit like a wave, crashing through me in pulses that left me crying out his name, clinging to him, hips still rocking even as I trembled. He held me through it, whispered praise into my ear.

“Good girl,” he breathed. “So fucking good for me.” But he wasn’t done. He flipped me over onto the couch, face-down, ass up. “Not finished with you yet,” he growled.

He slid back into me easily, grabbing my hips and fucking into me hard now—rough, deep, animalistic. My cheek pressed against the cushion, mouth open as he pounded into me.

“You want it rough?” he panted. “You want to feel how hard you made me?”

“Y-yes—fuck—yes—”

He slapped my ass, hard. “Say you love it.”

“I fucking love it.”

“Say who’s fucking you.”

“Harry—Harry’s fucking me—please don’t stop—”

He leaned over me, one hand tangled in my hair, the other holding my throat as he fucked me from behind. Skin slapping, breath ragged, everything filthy and perfect.

“Gonna come on you,” he groaned. “Wanna see you dripping.”

“Yes,” I begged. “Do it—please—come on me—”

He pulled out just in time, stroking himself fast before spilling hot all over my lower back and ass, groaning through gritted teeth. I lay there, trembling, dripping, wrecked. Breathing like I’d run a marathon.

He exhaled a long breath, letting it hang in the quiet between us. The only sound now was the soft hum of the camera still rolling. The red light blinked steadily, like it had witnessed every filthy, raw second of what just happened. Harry sat back, eyes scanning over me like he wasn’t sure if he was done yet—or just trying to memorize how I looked. Wrecked. Flushed. My hair a mess. My thighs still trembling.

“Stay there a sec,” he said, voice a little rougher than before.

I blinked up at him, cheek still pressed to the couch cushion, and nodded. He disappeared for a moment and came back with a warm towel. He didn’t rush—just knelt beside me, gently wiping me clean, taking his time like he actually cared. And maybe he didn’t. Maybe he was just good at playing the part. But something about the way his fingers grazed my skin, soft and unhurried, made my chest ache.

“You okay?” he asked quietly, gaze flicking up to mine.

I nodded. “Yeah. Just… that was a lot.”

A slow grin pulled at his mouth. “Good lot or bad lot?”

“Really good.”

He handed me the towel and stood up to grab water bottles. When he tossed one to me, I caught it with shaky hands.

“You looked like you’ve done that before,” he said, sitting down beside me again—close, but not touching.

“I haven’t,” I replied, twisting the cap off. “Not like that.”

He raised a brow. “You sure?”

I smiled. “Trust me. I’d remember if someone ever made me feel like that before.” He went quiet, watching me sip.

“You ever actually plan on watching the footage?” I looked at him. At the blinking red light still recording.

“I kind of want to,” I admitted.

He nodded slowly. “I’ll show you mine… if you come back and film another one.” I stared at him, half smiling, half stunned.

“You saying that to everyone who comes through here?”

“Nope.” He leaned in just slightly, voice lower. “Just the ones who moan my name like they mean it.”

I laughed, flushed, and shook my head. “You’re dangerous.”

He smirked. “Only on camera.” I didn’t believe that for a second. But I wanted to find out.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry x reader #harry styles writing #harry styles x reader #pornstar!harry #masterlist

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faemurmur · 24 hours ago

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-> soft yandere caleb hcs:

1. “you’re mine. you said so.” you get busy—miss a call, forget a text—and when you finally answer, his voice is calm, too calm. “i waited. for hours.” you apologize, sweetly, teasingly even, but he doesn’t laugh. “you promised you’d always be there, remember? don’t break your promises. i… don’t handle that well.” and later, when he holds you close, you feel the way his hands tremble slightly against your waist like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

2. his name in your phone has a lock emoji. -> he changed it himself. he also disabled the option to delete his contact. “just in case someone thinks they can slide into your messages,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, “they’ll know who you belong to.”

3. he tracks you. -> not in a creepy way (okay maybe a little), but he has your location always. and when he sees you’re somewhere unexpected, he texts immediately: “what are you doing there?” ……you ask how he knew. “because you’re mine pipsqueak, and i need to know you’re safe. that’s not too much to ask, is it?” and the look in his eyes? he’d burn the whole galaxy just to get you back home.

4. he doesn’t like you being friends with your ex-> at all. he doesn’t raise his voice. doesn’t tell you not to. he just shuts down emotionally, turns icy and unreadable. it’s bound with his actions though… he would probably still do everything acts of service wise. but he wants you to understand something is wrong, wants you to probe… and when you confront him, he finally murmurs, “i don’t want to be second choice to anyone. i want to be your only. and if that’s too much—” you cut him off with a kiss. you have to. because his voice was starting to sound a little unhinged and a little too honest.

5. he locks the door when you argue.-> not to trap you essentially (which he thinks he isn’t doing…) just to make sure you don’t leave. “we’re not going to sleep angry pips,” he says, softly. “you don’t walk away from me. not when we love each other this much baby.” and when you calm down, he pulls you into his lap, arms like iron around you, and whispers again and again, “mine. mine. mine.”

6. he doesn’t like you dressing up for anyone but him.-> you put on a new outfit, stunning, radiant—and his jaw clenches. why are you so breath-taking my gorgeous he thinks… no wonder he wants a world with just the two of you. “who’s that for?” / “me,” you say, innocent. but he steps closer, cups your jaw gently, possessively. “next time, wear it only when we’re alone. i don’t want anyone else seeing what’s mine. or~ you’d hate how i become and say something like i killed your old caleb.”

7. his anger is unpredictable.->when someone flirts with you in front of him, he doesn’t start a fight. but sometimes the look in his eyes speaks more than words ever could. maybe he will break their bones when you leave, maybe he will let it slide. who knows what caleb’s mood dictates him to do. sometimes, he just smiles. and later, when you’re home, he pins you softly to the bed, hands on either side of your head.“do you want them?” he asks, voice flat. “because i can make sure they never speak to you again.” and you— you tell him it’s just him. it’s always been him. like a prayer, like a chanting to balm his rage. and he finally kisses you like a starved man, whispering “good girl.”

8. he deletes numbers from your phone.->you’ll never notice. he’s too smooth. but people you used to talk to? stop replying. and when you ask caleb, he just shrugs with a soft smirk, “maybe they realized they could never compete with me.” and then changes the subject with a kiss and that dangerous look in his eyes again…. this isn’t out of sheer possessiveness though its just out of trust issues.

9. he doesn’t like letting you sleep mad at him.-> you try to turn away in bed, still upset. away from him… back on his face like an iron wall. but he slides his arms around you from behind, strong and unyielding.“no. you don’t get to walk away from me in your sleep, either.” and you can feel how serious he is. “we fix this now, angel. i’ll do anything. but you don’t leave.”

10. he has nightmares about losing you.-> he never tells you the full details either. just that he wakes up shaking, pale, and pulls you into his lap, holding you so tightly it almost hurts. “i saw you leaving me,” he whispers into your neck. “don’t ever do that. i wouldn’t survive it.”

#love and deepspace #lads x reader #yandere lads #yandere caleb #caleb x reader #caleb hcs #caleb headcanons #lads headcanons #love and deepspace headcanons #lads #l&ds #lnds caleb #yandere lnds #yandere caleb x reader

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dance-is-life27 · 2 days ago

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Drive

Joaquin Torres x Reader

Summary: After you find yourself not able to sleep, you take Joaquin out for a late night drive.

Warnings: Gender Neutral Reader, fluff, friends to lovers, flirting, first kiss, driving at night, not beta read

A/N: I need everyone to thank Halsey because the song Drive really inspired both of my most recent fics for some reason.

Reblogs are more appreciated than likes!

You know that it’s late when you call, that the last thing that you should be doing right now is interrupting Joaquin’s sleep but your brain has been going a thousand miles a minute since the sun set and you're desperate to do anything to get it to shut up for once.

And still, Joaquin answers anyway.

“Hey, everything okay?” He asks you, his voice deeper than usual as sleep mixes over the concern for you calling so late at night. The fact that he answered at all makes your heart flutter.

“Wanna go for a drive?” You ask instead of replying, the silence that stretches over the call makes you wonder briefly if he’s fallen back asleep but it’s then that you hear movement on the other side of the line.

Joaquin clears his throat, “Give me ten minutes.”

“I’m giving you five, Falcon.”

Joaquin comes out true to his word, or yours you guess, five minutes later in a hoodie, a pair of shorts, and some old converse. You can’t help but laugh when he picks up speed to get to your car, probably to escape the biting wind that you know is howling right outside. It doesn’t take long before Joaquin is sliding into your passenger seat, looking tired but nonetheless happy to see you.

“Hey,” Joaquin grins at you before his brows furrow, “what’s going on? Are you okay?” Joaquin’s eyes drift down your body, probably trying to check for any physical injuries on you but you wave him off with your hand before reaching for the radio. Turning up the volume you let the music from the station fill the silence before you take off.

You drive around city streets, taking both new and familiar turns alike, letting only your gut lead you to where you want to go next. It’s surprisingly blissful being out this late, not that many cars on the road and any tension that you might normally hold within you during the day is completely gone. As expected, it doesn’t take long for Joaquin to start talking again about anything and everything, you turn the music down and try to keep up with the conversation when you can but mostly you’re just focused on keeping your eyes on the road. And it helps that Joaquin doesn’t seem to mind either, happy to talk and to let his words be the perfect distraction for you.

It’s easy to admit that this is exactly what you were wanting when you pulled up outside of Joaquin’s house, debating if you should call him or not.

You don’t know how long it is that you drive for, or where you’ve ended up, only that at some point you’ve yawned one too many times and that your eyes have started to feel heavy. That’s your cue to get you to pull into the nearest empty parking lot. You finally relax as you put your car in park, letting your eyes shut as you lean your head back against the headrest.

A few moments pass before you realize that Joaquin has stopped speaking entirely and you crack open an eye to look at him.

“What’s on your mind, Torres?”

Joaquin tilts his head, “What’s on yours?” he questions, an added gentleness to it that makes you feel comforted. Safe, in a way that only Joaquin has the power to do.

You shrug, before you finally force yourself to answer, “Everything, I guess. Couldn’t sleep, decided I wanted to go for a drive, then decided that I wanted some company and called you.”

“Oh.”

You laugh despite yourself, “Yeah, oh.”

Silence stretches on in the closed space of your car. When you do find it in you to open your eyes again you're greeted by the dazzling sights of the city you’re in. A sight that you find yourself taking for granted more often than not these days. You look around at empty buildings lit up by neon lights, a sight that replaces the glow of the stars in the night sky. You’ll never get over just how mesmerizing the world around you becomes when you just stop to look and admire it for once.

You turn your head to face Joaquin, maybe to ask him a stupid question but the words die on your tongue when you find him already looking at you.

“What are you doing?” You eventually ask as you stare at Joaquin, taking in how the glow from a business sign near by highlights his face in a gorgeous wash of blue and purple.

“Enjoying the view,” Joaquin replies before he smiles at you and you can’t help the laugh that escapes your throat. “Oh, c’mon that was a good line!” Joaquin tries to defend but even he doesn’t stop the few chuckles that leave him either.

“It was cheesy.”

Joaquin clicks his tongue before he leans over the center console, gently invading your personal bubble, “A good cheesy?” Joaquin inquires, his eyebrows going up as a smirk stretches wide on his face. You just barely repress the urge to roll your eyes.

“I don’t think there is such a thing.” You reply, leaning into Joaquin as you do so.

Joaquin hums, the low sound feels like it echoes in the space between you two, “Maybe you think too much.”

You shrug, “Maybe I do,” Joaquin’s eyes shine in the night, the look of lights and love reflect in the all consuming warmth of brown, “You got a good solution for me?”

Joaquin nods only once, the movement so minuscule that you barely notice it before he leans in. “I’ve got a few ideas.” He whispers, his breath hot against your lips as the gap between you both finally closes. You sigh into the kiss, a warmth settling over you as you and Joaquin explore each other like this for the first time. It’s gentle and soft and intense all at the same time, a mix that leaves you dizzy and your hands come up to cradle Joaquin’s face in an effort to ground you in reality. It feels like hours pass by when you and Joaquin break apart for air.

You both gasp, your noses still brushing together as you breathe each other in.

“We should-” Joaquin pants, you realize then that this is the first time you’ve ever seen Joaquin Torres at a loss for words. Speechless, because of you. “We should go on drives like this more often.” You find yourself nodding in agreement as Joaquin grins at you. The sight of his blinding smile and his flushed face under the lights makes you want to pull him back in again but you refrain, pulling back slightly when Joaquin tries to lean in again. He takes your cue without a word spoken and settles back into the seat as if nothing had happened at all.

Your eyes glance over at the clock and you realize just how late it's gotten, “And you should’ve had your idea sooner,” Joaquin looks at you out of the corner of his eye, clearly questioning where you’re going with this, “Might’ve saved me some gas.”

Joaquin’s laughter rings out as you put your car in reverse, you use your phone to map out the quickest way back to Joaquin’s place as you have a feeling that you won’t have any more trouble with falling asleep tonight.

#joaquin torres #joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres x you #joaquin torres/reader #joaquin torres/you #the falcon #the falcon x reader #the falcon x you #joaquin torres x male reader #joaquin torres x gender neutral reader #joaquin torres x gn!reader #danny ramirez #danny ramirez x reader #marvel fic #mcu fic #marvel fanfiction #marvel x reader #drew writes fics #my writing

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thebluediner · 14 hours ago

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a/n: I'm gifting you this in the mean time

JEALOUSY JEALOUSY

there she goes getting jealous again. you didn't what the fuck was up with billie these past couple of weeks but she was getting anxious and agitated by people who are around you a lot.

it started at her albumn listening event. you were in the vip section and a couple of her influencer friends we're bundled up around you and you guess one of them got too close and she saw the whole thing.

then, next time it was at the grocery store when you both decided to go in but billie , who wanted to be extra careful ,wore a full incognito fit. when you reached the cashier they unfortunately started flirted, asking basic questions like what's your name , age, are you single and all that shit ,which she shut down by pulling you close by the waist before handing over her black card to pay.

the other time was when a delivery guy came to deliver a couple of boxes over to your house. the awfully old man complimented whatever you were wearing and wished you a beautiful day and of-course billie heard all of it since she was a couple of feet away ,in your kitchen.

now you're at an after party together well until she departs to greet a few of her past friends. the moment she left some guy, probably a producer, took it to his advantage to approach you. you looked at him like he was dumb whilst he raved on about whatever his job was ,how rich he is and how he could afford you. before you could even stand up for yourself billie came in pretty quickly between y'all giving you a kiss totally shoving the other guy off to god knows where.

but, when her lips left yours you could see it in her eyes she wasn't happy at all. her eyes raked over your body with confliction of emotions.

"should I fuck you so good and mark you up all over for people to not try ?" she asks in a way she didn't need an answer she already made up her mind.

and that's how you ended up in her car with the seats pushed back with you on straddling her lap. your legs were parted to settle on her perfectly while her mouth attacked your neck with purple marks and bites that wanted to be seen and appreciated the next day.

your whines and groans were loud with no shame. your body leaned into billie wanting her every fiber on you. her kisses sloppy and gnawing didn't stop on your neck but travelled lower to your chest marking you well enough to even brand you at this point.

her hands groped your breasts through the fabric of your dress tracing your figure down to you panties. her hands travelled underneath your dress cupping your pussy making you gasp at her action.

"who does this pussy belong to mmh?" her raspy voice questions expecting an answer.

"you, it belongs to you " you call out your head tilting to the side your need for her clouding any critical thinking.

''doesn't feel like it these days though princess'' billie pouted her eyes searching for yours. she was a menace you thought how could she say that like her fingers weren't slipping in your folds.

''uh...i'm sorry'' you managed to get out with your back arching towards her. you felt her fingers swim in you before she inserts one finger then another causing a pornographic cry to escape your lips.

''what are apologising for mama mmh .it isn't your fault that you're so sexy is it?'' billie's silky voice asks you with innocence draped all over it like she wasn't going to start pumping her fingers in you.

you shriek upon the unexpected wave of pleasure making you whip your head back as your hand tries to find anything to hold onto. billie's free hand wraps around your waist as support bringing you closer to her.

''tell me i'm the only one that matters'' billie instructs her eyes glued to yours, the ones you could barely keep open with all the stimulation you're experiencing.

''y-you're...the only one... baby please'' you string out regardless of the struggle. billie's hands were curled inside of you rubbing just the right spaces.

''tell me nobody fucks you like me '' billie commands once again biting her lip with her brows furrowed focusing on pleasing you

'' nobody... does bil...faster please '' you manage to get out. your body unconsciously bouncing on her fingers trying to ride them and get as much stimulation you can.

'' you're so fucking hot baby ugh should've fucked you in-front of all them '' another string of whines slip out from you at her dirty words.

you were so close she could feel it. you walls started getting tighter around her fingers making it harder for her to reach deeper but your pussy made such unholy sounds, she loved it.

''i'm gonna cum baby .fuck fuck fuck'' you told her your voice getting higher with every word so when the orgasm finally hitted you screamed letting your head hide in billie's neck. your sounds got muffled against her skin leaving you dizzy for a couple of seconds with your thighs trembling as the aftermath.

'' wanna fuck you better when we get home'' billie tells you while she leaves soft kisses on your shoulder.

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kenzdolls · 3 days ago

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hii can you do dating kirishima pls?? tysm!!

answer: duh, no problemo! sry for the long wait, school sucks…

𝐄𝐈𝐉𝐈𝐑𝐎 𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒:

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: 𝐞𝐢𝐣𝐢𝐫𝐨 𝐤𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐚 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐤𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐚 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐞𝐢𝐣𝐢𝐫𝐨 𝐤𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐚 𝐱 𝐮𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭! 𝐠𝐧! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

MEETING EIJIRO KIRISHIMA:

eijiro first noticed you during a class exercise where you showed incredible teamwork, shining during a rescue training scenario. your determination reminded him of his own ideals.

during lunch, he gathers the courage to approach you, his face bright red as he stumbles over his words. "hey! You were really cool out there!"

he often fiddles with his hair or scratches the back of his head when he's around you, and you can see the sincerity in his bright eyes as he tries to engage in friendly banter.

kirishima tarts inviting you to hang out with his friends, excited to introduce you to his tight-knit group. he thrives on group dynamics, and your presence adds to the hype.

one day, he notices your confident stance during combat training, and he can’t help but compliment you on your growth. he admires your strength and feels a strong connection forming.

kirishima finds excuses to walk you to your next class, often talking about hero stuff or asking you about your favorite quirks, eager to learn more about you.

EIJIRO CRUSHING ON YOU:

as he spends more time with you, kirishima begins to overanalyze every interaction, mentally kicking himself when he accidentally stutters or trips over his words in front of you.

when he sees you talking and laughing with others, a wave of jealousy washes over him, but it quickly turns into a determination to show you how awesome he is too.

his friends start to notice and tease him about it, calling him "soft" every time you’re around, and he just blushes deeply, denying it while secretly gushing inside.

he finds small ways to impress you, like showing off his hardening quirk or keeping up with intense training sessions just to be on par with your skills.

kirishima pays attention to the little things you like or mention in passing, like your favorite snacks, so he can surprise you with them, leaving them for you after class.

he secretly dreams of asking you out, imagining all the adventurous dates he could take you on.

DATING EIJIRO KIRISHIMA:

once you start dating, kirishima becomes the ultimate cheerleader, supporting all your endeavors and celebrating every little victory you achieve.

he often bakes you homemade treats (with a bit of help from momo or jirou) and delivers them with an enthusiastic grin, saying, “I made these for you! I hope you like them!”

eijiro loves spontaneous adventures, whether it’s a training session at the training grounds or stargazing on a rooftop at night; he finds every opportunity to create memorable experiences with you.

he frequently expresses his feelings through physical affection, whether it’s a gentle squeeze of your hand or an enthusiastic hug, showing just how much he cares.

kirishima highly values communication and encourages you to be open about your thoughts and feelings; he’s always ready to listen and bounce ideas off of you.

he tends to become protective when you face challenges, channeling his quirk to shield you during training sessions, but he also knows when to step back and let you handle things yourself.

eijiro loves to brag about you to his friends, showing them pictures of you both during cute dates, and making sure everyone knows how amazing you are.

he secretly daydreams about a future together, whether it’s training to be top heroes or just growing old together, and patiently waits for the day when you can make those dreams a reality.

#boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #bnha #mha x reader #x reader #fluff #kirishima eijirou #kirishima x reader #kirishima x you #kirishima fluff #katsuki bakugou #kirishima eijiro #eijiro kirishima #bnha eijiro kirishima #kirishima eijiro x reader #mha eijirou #bnha eijirou #fypage

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loveln4 · 1 day ago

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CHARLES LECLERC x OLD FRIEND!READER

I will not ask you where you came from

I will not ask you, neither should you

- Hozier, Like Real People Do

synopsis: Charles Leclerc bumps into an old acquaintance and spends the summer with her.

warnings: mentions of lestappen lmao

Italy was beautiful. It was her first time there and she was traveling alone.

She had visited the local gelato shops, grabbing the most unique of flavors. Rose, caramelized fig, and salted pistachio raspberry.

She was on her fourth cone when she spotted him. Y/n had to do a double take to make sure it really was him.

He was looking down a fruits, a bag of flowers in his hand. She poked his ribs, and he turned confused by this action. He didn’t know who she was until her perfume reached his nose.

“Ciao.” A small smile tugged at his lips. “How’ve you been?”

They hugged longer than they should’ve. Charles didn’t want to let go of her, aching to touch something so familiar. Something untouched by the somber years he had after she left. She was something happy.

Walking down the main street together, they didn’t say a word to each other, not until they sat down at a small family owned restaurant to eat lunch.

“How is your mother?” She said, gently picking up her ice cold beverage and drinking it. Her french was weak as she hadn’t lived in Monaco for long, leaving after six years.

Charles was so entranced by her face that he didn’t answer immediately. “She— she’s well.” Y/n looked different from when they had last seen each other, but she was the same girl he met in that art museum on a Saturday morning.

“That’s good.” They fell into silence, unsure of what to say next. “How’s racing?”

He lightly smiled and replied with a shrug, “It’s—It isn’t what i expected.”

“Why’s that?” She tilted her head. “From what i’ve seen you’ve been doing well.”

This gained Charles’ full attention. “You’ve been watching me race?”

“Here and there whenever i’m with my friend. He’d have it playing on the tv when i’m over.” The waiter had placed down their food, “Thank you.”

He? Charles was jealous, which was unusual. He hadn’t seen her for 9 years, and the old feelings he had for have rushed back. “He is a fan?” He said after taking a bite of his meal, “What team?”

“Ferrari, though you aren’t his favorite…”

“Huh.”

“What does ‘huh’ mean?” She giggled at this.

“Just that i’m more handsome than my teammate.” He cockily said, leaning back with his hands behind his head. “Don’t get me wrong, Carlos is attractive, but uh…have you seen me?” Charles wiggled his brows.

This made her burst out laughing. “Remember when I called you the prettiest boy i’ve ever seen? You still are.” Her laughter died down, “You look good, Charles.”

“You—you look heavenly.” He said, forearms resting on the table. He cleared his throat to clear the air forming between them, “What—uh, where are you staying?”

Y/n opened the door to her airbnb. It was an open house with large windows that were easy to open and close, a backyard that leads to the ocean, and a beautiful bedroom. The bed’s covers was embroidered with many colours, the pillows white with gold accents.

“This is very you.” He said as he looked around, “Very, very you.” He whispered as he touched a small canvas that she brought with her from back home.

“Good, because i wouldn’t have wanted to buy a house that didn’t represent me.”

“You bought this?” He asked stunned.

“Mhm,” She hummed in response. “I needed to move from home. I needed something different.” Y/n picked up a large canvas and hung it on a wall, “I couldn’t think of anything to paint, so i decided to move somewhere with unfamiliar surroundings.”

“Maybe you should move back to Monaco, couple of things have changed.” He suggested, leaning back against her kitchen counter, “Mum would be happy to see you again.”

“First of all, you just want me close. Secondly, i’d really like to see her again.”

As the night went on they laughed at their shared memories, “Remember when you kissed Max?” Y/n asked Charles, laughing in his face at the memory.

“I thought it was you!” He exclaimed as he stirred the sauce in the pot. “It was dark—like, really dark. And I could smell your fresh, clean perfume, and so when I saw a figure I—i just turned the person—who i thought was you! And just kissed them.”

She perched on her tippy toes and whispered near his ear, “With tongue, i heard.”

Charles groaned and covered his face but quickly recovered, “Well i do speak French after all.”

“You aren’t french though.”

He rolled his eyes and in french said, “You know what i mean.”

“Show me what you mean.” She muttered to herself in french while washing the dishes.

Little did she know; he heard that.

Charles’ pasta was good.

Not great, not scrumptious.

Just good.

“Lorenzo has always been a better cook than you.” Y/n said as she slurped up the last strands of spaghetti.

Charles scoffed at her insult, “Well, if you’re any better you could’ve helped.”

“Ha! But if I helped than i wouldn’t have been able to taste your horrible pasta.”

Charles has probably rolled his eyes more than ten times the entire night due to y/n’s stupid insults, but it made him happy.

It gave him joy that he was trying so hard to feel these past couple years.

Y/n and Charles washed dishes, cleaned the benches, and threw out the rest of the pasta because that wasn’t food that anybody could eat.

Charles began to grab his things, the flowers he carried were now wilted and somber. He was about to exit when something made him turn around to face y/n.

“You need me to stay over?” He asked her.

She started to nod, “Yes. I do need you to stay over.”

And so he did. They spent the rest of the night giggling, painting and eventually, when it came to resting; they slept in the same bed.

A/N: needed something fun and nice because i haven’t been in the best mood recently (as some could tell..). I hope you enjoyed this one and remember:

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

#formula 1 #formula one #charles lecrelc #cl16 x reader #cl16 imagine #cl16 #cl16 x you #cl16 fic #cl16 x y/n #cl16 one shot #cl16 fanfic #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc ferrari #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc #f1 smut #f1 fanfic

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fuctacles · 3 days ago

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<< sixteen | 😺 | eighteen >>

Wayne, while being the best uncle he's ever had, was also the worst. And not because he’s the only one Eddie knows; he'd beat any uncle Ben or Sam in a landslide.

(Actually, if you do count Uncle Sam, Wayne might not be the worst.)

"She's a sad lady, isn't she?" he asks out of nowhere during their drive to the hospital. "Still here while everyone she knows move away."

Eddie frowns at the yellow light in front of him.

"You're the one who told me to talk to her," he points out. He slows to a break at the intersection, the light now red, and turns towards his uncle. "Is this a ploy to keep me in Hawkins? You want me to marry and settle down?" He raises his eyebrows. As if the same fantasy didn't run through his mind at least once a day since meeting Steph.

"Hell naw." Wayne grins at him. "I want you to live a life of your own. I know you hate this place."

"It hated me first," Eddie reminds him.

"It's not for a wild thing like you," he agrees with a nod. "Hawkins is for old farts like me. The thing is—Green."

Eddie quickly shifts back into gear before the cars behind him start honking.

"Stephanie seems to think she's an old fart too," Wayne finishes his thought.

"Yeah, I've noticed," Eddie grumbles. "And what do you want me to do? Steal her away into the big city?" he jokes.

Wayne's answering silence grows heavy in the van.

"She's a grown woman, I'm not going to uproot her life," Eddie argues a point his uncle didn't make. It's not that he doesn't want to, more like he doesn't think he has the power to do it. Besides, they just got off together once, it's way too early to make plans like that. He has been daydreaming about them, yes, but he's painfully aware of the difference between fantasy and reality.

"You know, Jim got really into gardening recently," Wayne says apropos of nothing.

"Okay, go on…" Eddie nods slowly, patiently.

"He told me some plants have to be uprooted to grow properly. You know, when the pot is too small? Because the roots grow too, and they need space."

The van has finally reached the hospital, so Eddie waits until they're parked to turn towards his uncle.

"Did you just use a plant metaphor on me?" he asks, baffled.

"I simply shared some gardening wisdom from a friend," Wayne shrugs.

"Which you just though of."

"You're the one who used the word 'uprooting'," he fires back.

Eddie pulls the key out of the ignition with a tired sigh.

"You know, I kind of miss the fishing metaphors. They were less convincing."

Wayne raises his eyebrows.

"This is the rudest thing you've said to me since you told me the trout was disgusting."

"It's a terrible, stinky fish and you know it!" Eddie protests as they exit the van.

"How is Wayne's leg?" Steph asks later that day.

"Surprisingly well. The doctor said it healed better than expected and he'll probably be cleared for work the next week."

"I'm guessing he's happy to hear that?"

"Oh, yeah," Eddie snorts. He angles his head so Steph's scratches get where he wants them. "He's been walking up the walls for the past few days, and he hated all the movies the employee at video rental recommended to him. If he doesn't go back to work soon, he'll make it everyone's problem."

Steph hums thoughtfully.

"I get it. Don't you feel restless, too? Here in Hawkins, I mean."

"Huh?" Eddie blinks his eyes open. He hasn't realized when he even closed them. "The opposite, actually. I don't have to rush anywhere, there are no midterms; I can kick back and relax, forget the responsibilities and just be Wayne's favorite nephew again." He smiles. "It's like I'm putting my life on pause for a few days. And it's kind of terrifying how easy it is."

Steph remains silent, so he takes a cautious glance towards her. She's not looking at him or the television; her eyes are distant, focused on her thoughts.

"Everything is slow and old here, isn't it?" she muses.

"I swear to all that's unholy, if it's another opening to remind me how 'ancient' you are..."

Steph rolls her eyes and dips down to shut him up with a kiss. Unfortunately, it works perfectly in her favor. There's probably no argument against him that she couldn't win. All she has to do is press her hand against Eddie's chest, pinning him to the couch, and he can be easily persuaded into anything.

He kisses and licks back, trying to keep up with her, but with the last remains of a logical thought, grasps at her hand to slow her down. They separate with a wet smack, but don't move more than an inch away.

"Do you want—?"

"I'm taking you—"

They both smile and shuffle away to properly look at each other.

"Ladies first," Eddie gestures with a nod of his head.

"Do you want to stay the night?" she blurts out quickly, with little hesitance.

His jaw drops open and his heart stops in his chest.

"Like... on the couch?" he asks to clarify. The other option to good to be true.

Steph rolls her eyes, and it should be embarrassing how much he likes when she does it, even at his own expense.

"In my bed, idiot. Just to sleep, of course."

"Am I dreaming? I must be dreaming." He pinches his arm, and Steph does too, much harder. He yelps, making Arwen look at him with distaste. "Hey!"

"Do you want to?" she presses.

"Of course I do!" he bristles. "With you, I'd take celibacy vows," he says reverently, grabbing her hand in his.

She raises her eyebrows, and then pointedly looks him up and down.

"With you, I'd rather not."

Eddie grins despite his blush.

"What did you want to say?" she asks, pulling him back from his salacious thoughts.

It takes him a second to reel his thoughts back on track.

"Oh. I'm taking you on a date tomorrow." He takes a glance at the clock above the TV. "Yeah, tomorrow."

"You're taking me?" She raises an eyebrow.

At that, Eddie quickly slides off the couch and onto his knees, her hand still clasped between his palms.

"Oh, pardon me, princess. Would you do me the honor of going out on a date with me tomorrow?" he asks, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles.

Her eyes are wide and startled, and the first thing she can even manage out of her mouth is a laugh.

"You're such a dork," she murmurs. "Yeah, it's fine, I guess." She shrugs nonchalantly.

"Fine?" Eddie bristles, frowning. "What do you mean, fine?"

"I mean yes, you can take me on a date," she says, straightening her back to give herself a more regal posture. "I'll allow it."

He grins, and proceeds to press kisses up the length of her arm, slowly crawling back up onto the couch.

"Thank you for giving me this privilege, your majesty. A peasant like me, ha!" He throws his head back, briefly startling Steph into another laugh. "The town folk will not believe their eyes, a simple man like me, allowed by the side of a queen." Eddie presses a final kiss to her shoulder, and sits back. As Steph stares at him, he realizes his own outburst.

"Too much?" he asks with a sheepish smile, fierce flush taking over his cheeks.

"Just a little," Steph admits, pinching her fingers close together. Her face is tinted pink as well. "You know..." she trails off, falling against the back of the couch, their fingers still entwined. "I hated being called a king in high school, but... Queen sounds so much better." She lets her mouth curl into a small smile.

"Like something precious," Eddie catches on, leaning sideways so they can face each other. "Powerful yet feminine."

"Yeah." She nods absentmindedly.

"How about princess?" he asks next.

Guessing from how red Steph's face has gotten, she must have liked it. Eddie grins.

"Well then, princess, I truly hope a humble bard like me can at least make you laugh. I may not know swordsmanship, but I know my way around a lute." He waggles his eyebrows.

Steph pushes him away with a hand to his face and he falls backwards, cackling.

"Didn't you say you were bisexual?" she asks, seemingly out of nowhere.

"Uh... Yeah?"

"So you should know both the lute and swordsmanship.... you know?" Steph extends both her index fingers and crosses them, miming a battle as if they were tiny swords.

Eddie stares at her blankly.

"Are those supposed to be penises?" he asks, flabbergasted.

"Yes." She nods confidently, putting her hands back in her lap.

"You're perfect, holy shit." Eddie scrambles to sit back up. "You compared dick to a sword and I'm supposed to not marry you?"

She scoffs.

"Keep at it and you'll be sleeping on the couch."

Eddie clutches at his chest.

"Already feeling like a married man. Be still, my heart!"

"Yep, it's couch for you." She stands up with finality.

But when he holds her wrist, she goes back down easily, sinking into a kiss. Maybe the power to win arguments went both ways.

"Fine," she folds. "But we're sharing with Garfield."

"Well, where else would he sleep?"

ko-fi | Steddie masterpost

tags: @wheneverfeasible @steddieinthesun @hattsy-likes-pretty-stuff @bumblebeecuttlefishes @phantomcat94 @tartarusknight @tinyplanet95 @steddiefication @estrellami-1 @disrespectedgoatman @madigoround @tartarusknight @blasvemous @cryptid-system @hiei-harringtonmunson @hellowhatthehellisgoingonhere @dreamercec @manliest-of-muppets @bookbinderbitch @marklee-blackmore @icecat @rootbeerandmusic @mollymawkwrites @milojames16 @ellietheasexylibrarian @sadiea20

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #mine #crazy cat lady stevie #tw: age gap #stevie harrington #steddie fanfiction #wayne munson

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mind-empty-just-fictional-people · 2 days ago

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(pre-relationship) Frank Langdon x Reader idea:

These two don't know yet that they like each other yet -- "I only got [Reader/Frank] a pack of sour gummy worms because they haven't eaten yet, their blood sugar is probably low and I wanted to be nice" "What do you mean 'it's weird that I gave [Reader/Frank] a long hug'? They just lost a patient, they needed the comfort" "I'm asking [Reader/Frank] all these in-depth questions because I'm their friend, it's normal for friends to want to know more about each other" etc. etc. etc. Just to set the scene. It's unbearably obvious to everyone else, but not to them.

Anyways. They're at that stage of their (inevitable) relationship. And here comes a patient -- some smarmy dude who thinks he's charismatic, but is really just a creep -- who needs a truly impressive number stitches (or a thousand pieces of gravel that needs to be picked out one by one). Reader gets stuck having to care for this guy, and he's just making it a miserable time for Reader. Reader feels trapped, not sure if they could stop and get someone else to help out instead, when Frank steps in and freaks out a little on this guy (nothing bad, but definitely not professional lmao).

Later, Dana (who's scolding Frank for his unprofessional behavior) tells him "dude. Would you even be reacting that strongly if you didn't have feelings for Reader?" Boom -- Frank's sudden epiphany that oh, maybe I do like Reader.

(Meanwhile Kiara is checking in on Reader, and due to their conversation Reader also realizes oh, maybe I do like Frank.)

Hold Up

main masterlist | the pitt masterlist

summary: you and frank realize you have feelings for each other

pairing: dr. frank langdon x female reader

rating: R for language, pitt level heavyness

word count: 1.2k

warnings: death of a child, man being creepy toward reader, that's it i think

author’s note: i absolutely love this idea anon, and i hope i did it justice <3

“How many hours left in this shift?” Langdon sighed and leaned next to you against the front desk.

You checked your watch; “Four hours and twenty-seven minutes,” you answered his question.

“So excited to get the fuck outta here,” he said.

“What’re you doing after work?”

“Nothing much; just me, my dog, my TV, and take out.”

“Ah, sounds like a dream, Langdon,” you said.

“Oh, it is, for sure,” he laughed. “I noticed you haven’t eaten in a while, so I got you these from the vending machine and the food cart.” He handed you a sandwich and a pack of sour gummy worms.

“My favorite! Thanks, Langdon,” you exclaimed.

“Anytime,” he replied and got right back to work.

Robby noticed the little interaction and furrowed his brows as he watched you head to the break room for a quick lunch.

“What was that about?” he asked Langdon, walking up next to him.

“Y/n hadn’t eaten yet today,” Frank replied nonchalantly. “Her blood sugar’s probably low, I was just being nice.”

“So you bought her candy?”

“I knew she wouldn’t bother eating unless I lured her in with sour gummy worms,” Frank chuckled. “Smart, right?”

“Uh… yeah. How’d you know she likes sour gummy worms?”

“Everybody does.” Frank shrugged before being called to help a patient.

“No, they don’t,” Robby mumbled to himself.

“Hey, it’s not your fault,” you told him. You reached out and held his hand in yours as you repeated the words. “This was not your fault.”

“I know,” he said, but you knew he didn’t believe himself. Frank had just lost a patient, a ten-year-old car accident victim.

You asked if he wanted a hug, and he replied by wrapping his arms around you. You returned the gesture and squeezed him tightly.

“Wasn’t your fault,” you said again.

“Thank you,” he mumbled.

After a minute or two, he pulled away from the hug. He thanked you again before he went to help another patient.

“What was that about?” Dana asked you, her brows furrowed.

“What was what about?” you asked half-heartedly, looking up at the screens to pick out a patient.

“Why were you hugging Langdon for so long?” she asked.

“Oh, he lost a patient,” you replied.

“So you had to hug him for that long?” she chuckled a little.

“He needed the comfort.” You shrugged. “Ooh, nose job gone wrong? I’ll take that one,” you said and went to go grab the patient.

“These two, I swear,” Dana scoffed with a laugh, shaking her head with amusement.

“If you could live anywhere in the world, where would you live?” Frank asked you.

“Ooh, that’s a tough one. I’ll get back to you on that,” you said before being whisked away to help a patient.

“What’s up with you and Langdon?” Samira asked.

“What do you mean?” you asked, focused on the patient and not fully paying attention to Dr. Mohan.

“Why are you and Langdon going back and forth with so many questions?”

“Oh, we’re playing this game where we ask each other a question every time we see each other. It helps pass the time.”

“Huh, strange game…”

“We’re friends,” you started, still fully focused on the patient, “we just want to get to know each other better.”

There was one patient no one wanted to take because they’d met him before, and all he did was hit on the women working there the whole time. You reluctantly took him as your patient (without Langdon knowing), and you had begun to despise him. His rude comments and gestures were only getting worse.

“C’mon, sweetheart; you, me, a bottle of wine at my place? Whaddaya say?” He smirked and reached out to touch you.

“What the hell is going on in here?” Frank exclaimed, much louder than he intended, and gained the attention of everyone around him.

“Nothing–” the man started, but Frank cut him off.

“You listen here, Dr. Y/l/n is not here to date you, and by the looks of it, she doesn’t want to be here at all. Now you are gonna man up and take a ‘no’ like a normal person, or I will escort you out myself.” Langdon stood there, fuming mad. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir,” the man gulped.

“Yes, doctor,” Langdon corrected.

“Yes, doctor,” the man replied.

“Is everything okay in here?” Robby poked his head in.

“Everything’s fine,” Langdon said.

Kiara wanted to talk with you briefly after the incident, although you told her you were fine.

“I’m sure you were happy when Dr. Langdon came to your rescue,” she remarked.

“Yeah, he’s a great friend,” you said.

“I’ve been meaning to talk with you about that. You know you’re allowed to date your coworkers, right?”

“Are you asking me out?” you teased.

“I meant,” she laughed a little, “you and Langdon.”

“Oh, we’re just friends.” You furrowed your brows.

“Sure,” Kiara said. She said something else before she left, but you weren’t really listening.

Hold up… did you like Langdon?

Meanwhile, Dana was busy scolding Frank for his behavior with the patient.

“Come on, Dana, you know I was doing the right thing, standing up to that guy,” Langdon scoffed.

“We all know how annoying that man is, but you can’t threaten a patient!” Dana exclaimed.

“I was only doing what no one else had the guts to do,” he replied. “Ask anyone, they wanted to do the same thing!”

“Come on, Langdon, you’d only be reacting like this if you had feelings for Dr. Y/l/n!”

“I–” Frank stopped. Hold up… he did have feelings for you, strong feelings. “I don’t have feelings for her?”

“Sure, kiddo,” Dana said in a playfully condescending tone before she turned to walk away.

“We’re just friends!” he called out after her.

“Well, your ‘friend’ is in the breakroom if you wanna go talk to her,” Dana said, using air quotes as she continued to walk away.

“Shit,” Langdon mumbled to himself.

“Go,” Robby said to him.

“Huh?”

“Go talk to her, I’ll cover your patients.”

“Thank you.”

“So… that was something,” Langdon said, as he walked into the breakroom and found you staring at the vending machine.

“There are no sour gummy worms in this vending machine,” you pondered out loud, wondering where Langdon had gotten the bag from earlier.

“No, but the one on the second floor has them.”

“You went all the way to the second floor just to make sure I ate something?” you asked.

“Yeah.” Langdon stood in front of you. “There’s a lot I’d do for you.”

“Really?”

“I think I have feelings for you,” he sighed. “I’m sorry, I know that’s not what you want to hear.”

“I think it’s exactly what I wanna hear, Frank,” you admitted. “I think I have feelings for you, too.”

“So… what do we do now?”

“You could kiss me, if you wanna.”

His face lit up before he leaned down and kissed you deeply. His hands went to your hips as yours went to his cheeks. You stayed locked in the passionate kiss for what felt like hours before you both broke away.

“I think you might be my best friend,” Langdon whispered, making you smile widely.

“I think you might be my best friend, too, Langdon.”

#dr frank langdon x reader #dr frank langdon #frank langdon #frank langdon x reader #the pitt fanfiction #the pitt x reader #the pitt hbo #the pitt #by mind empty just fictional people #by mind empty just fictional people #by astrid #userastrid #usermindempty #patrick ball

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devdozes · 2 days ago

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Just who are you?!

The first time Mydei saw you, it was raining.

Not the light drizzle that makes people linger on their way home, but a full downpour—the kind that makes the streets glisten with reflections of neon signs and leaves the air thick with the scent of wet pavement. He had been walking home after dealing with yet another scumbag who called himself a hero, his hoodie pulled up, hands shoved into his pockets, when he noticed you.

You stood at the edge of the sidewalk, head tilted slightly to the sky as if greeting the rain like an old friend. The way the raindrops ran down your skin, soaking into your dark clothes, didn’t seem to bother you in the slightest. You were still, unbothered, as the world rushed past—umbrellas snapping open, footsteps hurried, people darting for cover. But not you. You stayed right there, eyes half-lidded, the ghost of a smile barely curving your lips.

Mydei wasn’t the type to let curiosity get the better of him, but there was something strange about you. Something deliberate. He watched for a moment longer before shaking it off and continuing on his way.

But then it happened again. And again.

Every time it rained, you appeared. Same spot, same quiet expression, as if the world outside the rain didn’t exist to you. It didn’t take long for Mydei to realize that you only ever came out during the rain. Like a phantom that only existed when the sky wept.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew when something—or someone—was out of the ordinary. And you? You were a mystery wrapped in water, slipping through his fingers before he could grasp at anything solid. He started lingering just a little longer each time, leaning against a lamppost nearby, arms crossed, golden eyes sharp as he observed you.

And you knew. Oh, you knew.

At first, you ignored him, feigning indifference with an air of practiced ease. But then, one evening, as the rain pattered down in rhythmic taps against the concrete, you turned your head ever so slightly, just enough for your gaze to meet his.

A faint smile—so fleeting it might have been imagined.

It was enough to make something stir in Mydei’s chest. Not frustration, not annoyance. Something else.

The next time it rained, he was waiting before you even arrived.

You took your usual place, but this time, he didn’t just watch. He took a step forward, purposeful, his rough voice cutting through the sound of the downpour.

“You always do this?”

You barely spared him a glance. “Do what?”

His jaw tightened. “You only come outside when it rains.”

A beat of silence, then a small hum as you tilted your head. “Maybe I like the rain.”

He scoffed, pushing a hand through his damp hair. “Maybe. Or maybe you just like messing with me.”

Your lips quirked, not confirming, not denying. Just teasing. Like you enjoyed dangling just out of reach.

Mydei exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Tch. You’re a piece of work.”

For the first time, you fully turned to him. “And yet,” you mused, “you keep watching.”

He didn’t have an answer for that.

The rain kept falling, and for the first time, Mydei wasn’t in a hurry to leave.

just a short idea drabble :)

#hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #fanfiction #fem reader #hsr fanfiction #fem y/n #hsr x you #honkai star rail fanfiction #mydei x reader #mydei x reader modern au #mydei x reader fanfiction #mydei x reader fluff #mydei x reader hsr #honkai star rail x you #mydei x you #mydei x you fluff

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hearts4mica · 13 hours ago

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I can’t fix you

Yandere Batfam! x Neglected Reader

Masterlist

_________________________________________________

“How can a person lose their self control?”

_________________________________________________

Request!: Hello friend! May I request neglected reader x batman except they break and become the next Joker?

Let's say that Jason killed the original, but given the neglect and outright hatred put onto reader (you can expand on this however you wish!), they run away from the manor without anyone noticing it.

They stumble upon an old warehouse where he stored the Joker toxin, except this version of it was meant to be used on Halloween (as another statement from Joker) and was so incredibly strong that, combined with all of that anger and grief in their heart, reader goes insane and begins to laugh... a lot. Since it was still a very bad hazard to leave out, Batman tasks Nightwing (and a reluctant Hood) to enter the warehouse a few days later, only to find that there are signs that point to Joker being back and having collected a lot of henchmen and a lot of toxin, planning something. So when these two go to confront who they think is Joker, they see reader instead, with the same bloody, scarred smile and hollow eyes.Queue a battle (that reader narrowly loses, taunting both of them with hurtful words that they can't even retort to), and now batfam is trying their hardest to bring the old reader back, except they don't even know what they were like, truly. The only one that did was Alfred, but not enough to know if their rehabilitation is working.

Meanwhile, Batman interrogates reader and the conversation heads south where they go "You never thought of me, Bat. I was invisible, hated and never once given an ounce of attention. I never knew if you loved me. You loved your villains far more... so will you, now? Now that I am like him? Am I finally worthy of your attention?" they laugh, even harder at the horror in his eyes, the grief in his voice while he denies it, and all that the Asylum can hear are spine-chilling giggles and the words of a broken man who's too late to save his one and only normal kid.

Also can I be called 🍌 anon? :D

(Hello Anon! I have no idea why it wouldn’t let me answer your request so i just copied and pasted it here! Here’s your story!)

———————————————————————————

Ever since you said no the chance if becoming a hero like them you felt ignored? Like they were disappointed in you.

You were just normal in their eyes. Your family didn’t care about you.. they never did so as soon as you turned 18 you ran away and no one noticed. You’re sure they didn’t even remember or cared about your existence.

You stole some money from Bruce to rent yourself a department in a not so bad place in Gotham but ended up getting scammed so all your money went to waste and now you were homeless.

While laying down on a bench you debated about going back to the Wayne Manor and live a sad life there again but you couldn’t! Your ego wouldn’t let you.

So without any hope left you got up and started walking to an abandoned warehouse. Maybe there’s stuff you can take from there and sell? It’s not stealing if it’s abandoned. So you decided to go in.

While exploring the place you found a so called “Joker Toxin” it was probably a fake one but his fans would pay anything for this. You grabbed the small glass but it was slippery because it was stored in a freezer and it feel to the floor breaking the glass and the liquid fell to the floor.

“Aw shit.” Well it was fake after all so you didn’t need to worry right?-

The moment you inhaled that toxin you started grinning your eyes widened open and your eyes they became red as if you were intoxicated. You feel onto the floor in pain it hurts so bad but you can’t help but- feel happy?

Ha, ha ha HA HA HA HAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHHA!!!

You can’t stop no matter how much you cover your mouth trying to quiet down not wanting to attract unwanted attention it seems impossible to you. It feels like someone’s tickling you. You can’t stop.

You pass out a few hours later from exhaustion

When you wake up it feels like something has changed with you. You want revenge you need it.

Now you had to set a trap to kill two birds with a stone.

Comissioner Gordon had notified Batfam about some weird noises coming from an abandoned warehouse that citizens had told him about so he sent Nightwing and Red hood.

He told them to be careful since the Joker might be back because of some signs and to notify him immediately if it was the case.

He knew Dick and Jason weren’t children anymore but be still couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was wrong and it felt wrong to send his children to investigate this. He was trying to become a better fatjer for all his children afterall.

Now Nightwing and Redhood were outside the warehouse. You we’re watching them through a small window getting ready for your grand entrance.

The went in and everything seemed fine. Until you appeared instead of the Joker.

“Hello there!” You say as you step out from the shadows.

They both freeze for a second.

“What? The bat ate your tongue?!”

“Name?-“ Dick says surprised that his- sibling? Was here. Weren’t you 8 years old? You were when he- last saw you?…

“Well yeah but no! I’m now the Joker! I’m his greatest succesor!” Your smile was creepy. It went from ear to ear and it was painted with red lipstick. You had dyed your hair green (and failed awkwardly-) so now it was just black and looked green fungy.

“What the heck is wrong with you?! You know how much harm you’ve been causing? Are you stupid?!” Red hood says.

“Let’s both calm dowwn! [name] come back home! We miss you-“

“Oh stop being a fucking hypocrite Dick! No one even noticed i was gone until now! No way in heck i’m going back to that place!” You hold up a gun.

“Oh so that’s how we’re playing?” Redhood takes out his gun.

“Let’s dance.” You smirk as you shoot your gun towards them.

You end up loosing and they drag you back to the manor. You insulted them in every language you knew.

Now back in the manor you got tied up and Batman was infront of you.

“What a nice family reunion isn’t that right Bats?” You tell him taunting him.

“[name] don’t call me that. I’m you father-“

“HAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA since when Batsy?! When did you ever parent me? When was the last time we had a real conversation?! And don’t call me [name]! I’m the joker now!”

“I-“ for the first time to you Bruce Wayne your ‘father’ had looked at you. Stared at you regretfully.

“When was the last time you thought of me? Was i not worthy of your attention like them?! Is it because i didn’t want to become a hero like you? Are you jeaulous cause i picked a normal life?!”

“I was just busy [name]” his face was full of regret. But it was too late.

“But you were never busy for your villians right?! Now that i became a villian it’s the first time in years that you’ve payed attention to me!” Your smile started fading you’ve couldn’t look weak infront of him! Never again.

“We can change that! How about you quit this nonsense you’ve got going on? We can start this over again.” His child. You were his child. He lost you once. He’ll make up for this wether you want to or not.

Damian watching in the background “This psycho needs therapy.” He mutters to himself and leaves the Batcave.

Now you were forever trapped in this place. Your family was not stopping until you became what you once were.

Honestly they didn’t even know you. They just molded you into what they ideally thought you were.

Your makeup was wiped off. Your clothes changed. Your hair well they tried to save it but since the dye ruined it it had been chopped off horribly.

Daily your ‘doctor’ (Alfred) prescribed you sedatives to keep you in line. If you misbehaved you got a dosis. In the morning a dosis, at night another one.

They told you it was for your own good. They were helping you. You couldn’t harm yourself anymore!

Now everyday felt like on autopilot. You were a zombie in your own body. Your mind was foggy.

And they’ll keep doing this until you become the perfect Wayne they imagined you once were.

“Ha! Joker? What a stupid idea [name]! You never became the Joker! Pftt! Babybird we would never neglect you! You were always a part of us!”

Those small lies. Daily. While being weak. You started believing them.

_________________________________________________

Thanks for reading!

My masterlist!

Requests are open!

_________________________________________________

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kissedlver · 1 day ago

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Wipe Me Down.

ZILLA FATU X FEM!WRESTLER!BABYMOMMA!READER.

SUMMARY: You and Zilla share y’all’s two year old son, Zaire. Although, the two of you never dated, Zilla is still protective over you. One night after a show, your co-workers / friends dragged you out for a night out. While you were there, some dude was hitting on you. Safe to say, Zilla didn’t fuck with that.

WARNINGS: Choking, spanking, p in v, semi-toxic, degradation, dirty talk, hair pulling, creampie.

Monday, March 31st.

11:57 PM

“Girl, Alexis already said she’ll watch Zaire. Stop making excuses and get your ass up.” Trinity’s voice is heard throughout the hotel room as she pulls you off the bed by your ankles.

“Well bitch, i’m tired.” You grumble before Bianca groans from the bathroom. “Which is what you say all the time.” She walks from the bathroom before continuing to speak.

“Before Zilla came to WWE, you didn’t have any problem going out sometimes. Zaire is safe, and you don’t have to stay long. Just please come out.”

You groan as you sit up. “Fine. I’m only staying out for an hour or two, then i’m coming back.”

Trinity and Bianca squeal before they started picking an outfit out.

12:36 AM

You stood in front of the mirror as you smooth out the black leather mini skirt that barely covers your bottom half. The skirt was paired with a strapless red corset top and black high heel boots. You felt amazing.

The way the outfit hugged your curves made you smile. “You ready?” Trin asks as she places her jewelry on.

You nod before going over to your bag and taking your my Victoria’s Secret, “Bombshell Intense”, before spraying a few spritz on your body.

“Yeah i’m ready.” You grab your bag before walking to the door.

12:54 AM

You and the girls had made it to the club a few minutes ago. You were currently getting a drink at the bar.

“And what’s a beautiful woman like you doing all alone?” You look behind you towards the sound, seeing a middle aged man standing there.

“Excuse me?” You laugh slightly. He chuckled as well, a smirk crossing his lips as he leaned in closer. "You, sweetheart," he replied, his voice low. "Sitting all by yourself, looking like you could use some company."

Back in the VIP sections, Zilla’s eyes had found you as soon as you walked in. His mind going wild with the image of you in that outfit. That quickly left his mind as he saw some dude come up to you. His jaw clenched as the man got closer and closer to you.

“Yo Uce, you good?” Joshua, his cousin, asked from the stop in front of him. Zilla’s attention never left you as he answers his question. “Yeah..yeah, i’m fine. Imma be back.” Zilla pushes off the couch before he makes a beeline towards you and the older man.

He finally gets to you, placing his arm around your neck. “Wassup ma?” You roll your eyes as you look up at him. “Hi, Zilla.” You mumbled.

Zilla's arm remained firmly around you as he looked over at the guy. "She good, she's with me," he confirmed with a smirk while tightening his grip a bit. The man stared at you both awkwardly as he stood there.

The man standing near you couldn't help but eye the large difference in height and size between you two. He raised an eyebrow as he noticed the possessive gesture from Zilla, clearly not thrilled with it. "Can I help you, man?" he asked, looking up at Zilla with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“Yeah, you can back the hell up from my child’s mother.” Zilla starkly spoke.

“Oh- shit. I’m uh- i’m sorry man.” The man backed away a little.

“Man whatever- come on.” Zilla said as he softly grabbed your wrist, leading you to the clubs exit.

1:29 AM

“Oh- shitt,” the sound of zilla’s thrusts meeting your ass was heard throughout the hotel room. Zilla brings his hand up before slamming it back down on your right ass cheek.

“Yeahh- nobody gets this pussy like I do. This my shit. Say it.” Zilla’s thrusts get faster as the grip of his hand increases around your neck. “Whose pussy is this?” He says, tilting your head back to look at him. Your head spinning as the mixture of pleasure and lack of oxygen start to flow.

“It’s- oh fuck- it’s yours, Z. All yours.” You managed to get out before you see Zilla smile and taps your cheek, signaling for you to open your mouth. When you open it, spit travels from his mouth to yours.

“Swallow that shit. I’m not playing with you.” His hand unwraps from your neck as it grabs your hips, bringing your body closer to him.

“You gon have my kids?” Zilla’s hips pound into yours as he whispers into your ear. “Hmm? you gon let me fuck another kid into you, ma?”

You couldn’t speak as the knot in your stomach becomes tighter. You nod as tears start to slip down your face. “It’s too much- i’m about to-“ before the words could fall from your lips, the orgasm tore through your body, making your body convulse in Zilla’s arms.

“That’s it, ma. I’m almost done.” Zilla mumbled as he mercilessly pounded into you.

“Fuck- I miss this, mama. I missed you. You missed me?”He asked as he kissed your shoulder. All you could do was nod before you felt your insides warm with his nut.

He slowly pulled out before placing a kiss on your head. He walked over to the bathroom, coming out with a warm rag. He came over to you, cleaning up the mix of juices that ran down your leg, and placing a soft kiss on your stomach. He threw the rag somewhere in the room before picking you up and taking you to the bathroom. When your done, he picks you up again and walks over to the bed, placing you both under the covers of the bed.

“You know you mine forever.” He looked at you as you smile at him, nodding.

the end.

i’m sorry it’s so short :(

@4milly

#zilla fatu #zilla fatu x reader #zilla fatu imagine #zilla fatu smut #zilla fatu fanfiction

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respectthepetty · 22 hours ago

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My bias for Faifa and Wine is on full display in episode twenty-three of Perfect 10 Liners. Everyone else can eat dirt because I only care about my Lapis Lads!

Faifa wakes up happy to be alive with his Blue Boy right next to him, and everything is right in the world!

And I'm not even that mad at Black Brooder Yotha and Green Guy Gun (who seems to be slightly wearing his man's color)

Because their antics caused Blue Boy Faifa to pout which allowed Wine to deliver all the kisses his man wanted because Faifa will never be denied another thing that makes him happy as long as Wine is alive!

And now our other Blue Boy Phuri gets to witness his buddy in ultimate bliss because he has a boyfriend who loves him with his whole heart!

But while Faifa is finally living his best life, Green Guy Po lost his color after his partner (????) broke up with him for being too nice, which not only came as a surprise to him, but to me too since I had no idea he even had someone!

But his friends barely seem prepared to handle their friend's emotions since Blue Boy Sand isn't even in his color, and I have to squint to see Yellow Yal Arm in his color, but at least he is wearing Red Rascal Arc's color in the text on the shirt.

But we won't see those colors again since only my Blue Boys seem to care about sticking to the color assignment!

How does a heartbroken Green Guy get his color back, but these other guys can't wear their designated color?! I need answers, wardrobe department! I know twenty-four episodes is a lot, but I need the boys in their colors AT ALL TIMES!

Not even the ones who are about to be engaged can commit to their colors!

But I appreciate Klao for admitting he doesn't know how to propose since he is too hood, so he goes to a rich boy to ask how he can soften his approach even though I'm sure Warit would have been fine with Klao proposing during sex with his hand around his throat.

But anyways . . .

BACK TO MY LAPIS LADS!

I love that Wine finally squashed this bullshit the family continues to tote out about Faifa.

His man not only knows how to love, but Faifa does it soooo well that Wine wanted to boo him up from the start and is about to go get that bracelet for his man so Faifa is constantly reminded that Wine loves him just as much as Faifa loves Wine!

Look at this dark Blue Boy! He is over everyone's shit. With the power of Faifa's love, he can do all things, and he is going to prove to the man he loves that he IS loved even if he has to go to an indie music festival alone to get that bracelet. We know he hates traveling, but our boy is so committed to his man, that he is willing to do whatever it takes to make Faifa understand how much he is loved!

Tawan was just out there making Wine do random drills since he couldn't give him any love advice BECAUSE FAIFA ALREADY MADE SURE WINE KNEW HE WAS LOVED!

So, of course, Wine would imagine his man there with him after he lied to him because Wine doesn't lie to his guy! He told Faifa he was meeting Tor, and even though Faifa was upset about it, he said he would be an idiot to not trust Wine, but now Wine lied to Faifa because he wants to show him how much he loves him by getting that bracelet for his birthday because Faifa is the best boy to ever exist!

Who is doing it better than this Blue Boy? NOBODY!

And that's why Faifa booted his mom out of his car at the airport, went to Wine's friends to see where his man really was, then went to that music festival TO HELP HIS GUY since he knew Wine, who hates traveling, was not prepared for this adventure instead of getting mad at him for lying to him.

And that's why Faifa deserves all the love he is about to get from Wine.

Yes, the vibe is right and it's time for our 20-year-old Blue Boy to finally get everything he deserves.

IT'S A BLUE BOY SPECIAL!

THE LIGHTING DEPARTMENT UNDERSTANDS THE ASSIGNMENT!

MY LAPIS LADS ARE GETTING THE ULTIMATE BLUE LIGHT TREATMENT!

And Faifa still has enough brain function to drop the banger of a line letting Wine know if he gets cold without his clothes on, instead of stopping, he will hold Wine tighter!

AYEEEEE!!!!!!

I'M OBSESSED! I LOVE IT!

#perfect 10 liners #color coded boys in love #the colors mean things #I'M OBSESSED!#They are the best couple #Miscommunication? We don't know her #Anger and aggression? Who they?#They trust each other AND THEY LOVE EACH OTHER #episode twenty-three #I want eighty more episodes of just them #and this blue lighting #the light department earned its paycheck with that last part alone #I LOVED IT!#I'm going to be living here all week

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yunholic-jongholic · 3 days ago

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Snuggle Season | C.JH x Reader

SUMMARY | You are on your period and your boyfriend Jongho comes to comfort you for the day.

PAIRINGS | Jongho x Fem!Reader

RATING | 16+? (Idk...)

CONTENT WARNINGS | Mentions of Period, Reader on her Period, Mood Swings, Cramping, Light Cursing (Not as bad), Softie Boyfriend!Jongho,

WORD COUNT | 7.6k

AUTHOR NOTE | This is for me and the girlies who suffer bad periods and want just Jongho to cuddle them :( Nothing but fluff in this one shot. :3c I will tell y'all right now, as someone who is on her month right now. I cried writing this LMFAO.

•

You woke up in the afternoon—slept in again, unintentionally. It didn’t take long before it hit you… that time of the month had arrived.

Great.

With an annoyed sigh, you forced yourself out of bed, determined to shower and salvage some productivity from the day.

You got your clothes ready and went to take a shower.

Afterwards, wrapped in the lingering warmth of the water, the idea of going out suddenly felt… exhausting. Honestly, staying in and just being lazy sounded way more appealing today.

So, you slipped into your comfiest clothes—soft, oversized, and still carrying that fresh laundry scent—then curled up in bed beneath a blanket that clung to a hint of yesterday’s warmth. The soft patter of rain against the window felt like the world was whispering, it’s okay to rest.

You let out a quiet sigh as the familiar ache of cramps started to settle in. Curling into yourself, you tried to get comfortable again when your phone suddenly buzzed on the nightstand.

With a tired groan, you reached over and picked it up, the screen lighting up with Jongho’s name.

You answered, and his warm voice greeted you on the other end.

“Hey, babe. You, okay?”

You gave a soft hum in response, your voice a little quieter than usual. “Mmm… not really. Cramps are kicking my ass today.”

There was a short pause on his end before he spoke again, gentler this time. “Ah, I had a feeling. You sounded a little off.”

You could practically hear the concern in his tone, that familiar blend of worry and affection.

“Do you want me to come over? I can bring snacks, a heating pad, maybe even risk my life by picking the wrong brand of chocolate again,” he teased lightly, trying to make you smile.

Despite the discomfort, you let out a quiet laugh, the corners of your mouth lifting.

“That does sound tempting,” you murmured. “Especially the snacks.”

“Say no more. I’m on my way,” he said, already moving around in the background. “Text me if you think of anything else you want, okay?”

“Okay… thank you.”

“Always.”

You ended the call feeling just a little lighter, your phone resting beside you again as you nestled deeper into the blankets, comforted by the thought of Jongho on his way.

The steady sound of rain kept you company, soft and soothing against the windows. After a few quiet moments, you sighed and peeled yourself out of bed, shuffling to the door to unlock it for him. Then it was straight back to your cocoon of warmth, where your blanket welcomed you like an old friend.

It wasn’t long before a gentle knock echoed from the front door—followed by the sound of it opening.

“Babe?” Jongho’s voice floated through the apartment.

“In here,” you called softly.

He appeared in your doorway a few seconds later, balancing three overstuffed bags like some kind of cozy-day delivery hero. Without a word, he dropped them on your bed beside you and sat down with a little exhale, brushing his fingers through his slightly damp hair.

“I may have gone a little overboard,” he said with a small grin.

You peeked into the bags—chocolate, heating pads, painkillers, your favorite snacks, and even a little stuffed animal. Your heart melted a little.

He soon slipped off his rain jacket, revealing the bear-print pajamas he’d clearly been wearing all day underneath. The sight made you smile instantly. Before sitting down, he pulled the hoodie over his head, the oversized hood making him look like a sleepy little forest creature.

You reached for him with a small laugh, pulling him closer until he was within kissing range. You pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of his nose.

“You’re so cute,” you murmured.

He grinned, cheeks tinting just slightly. “You’re just saying that because I brought chocolate.”

“Maybe,” you teased, resting your head against his shoulder.

“So…” he said after a pause, stretching out and letting his legs sprawl across the bed, clearly settling in for the long haul. “Do you wanna watch TV or something?”

You nodded, already reaching for the remote. “Only if we can cuddle while we do it.”

“Obviously,” he smirked. “That was always part of the plan.”

You turned on the TV and handed him the remote with a little smile. “Surprise me today.”

He took it with a mock-serious nod, settling in beside you as you grabbed the painkillers and downed them quickly. With one hand, you already tore into the chocolate, unwrapping a piece and popping it into your mouth like it was the cure to all the world's problems.

“Alright, let’s see what we’ve got,” he said, scrolling through the options.

You watched him browse for a bit—until he hovered a little too long over a scary movie thumbnail.

Your eyes narrowed. “No.”

He grinned. “C’mon, babe. It’ll be fun!”

“I’m serious. No.” But the look in your eyes only made him smirk harder.

With zero hesitation, he clicked it anyway. The ominous music started playing immediately, and you groaned as you sat up, reaching for the remote.

“Don’t worry,” he teased, holding it out of your reach like a villain. “I’ll protect you, babe.”

“Oh my god, give it!” you laughed, playfully swatting at him as you climbed over his lap trying to wrestle it back. He held it away, laughing along with you as the two of you fell into a lighthearted game of tug-of-war with the remote.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said between giggles, still trying to grab it.

“And you’re stuck with me,” he grinned.

He grinned mischievously before gently plopping you back down beside him, sliding the remote behind his back like it was top-secret intel.

You huffed, lightly smacking his chest. “Jongho!”

He burst out laughing at your dramatic squeal, clearly loving every second of messing with you.

“Alright, alright,” he said through his laughter, finally fishing out the remote and handing it over.

You snatched it with an exaggerated glare, rolling your eyes as you muttered something under your breath about gremlins in bear pajamas. With righteous satisfaction, you scrolled past the horror section and put on a lighthearted rom-com instead—something cozy, funny, and just the right amount of cheesy.

Satisfied, you nestled into Jongho’s arms as he wrapped them snugly around you, pulling you in close. His hoodie was soft and warm, and the rhythmic beat of his heart under your cheek was enough to lull you into comfort.

You reached for the chocolate again, popping another piece into your mouth as you settled into the safety of the moment—cramps and all, this was your kind of peace.

As the movie played, the two of you lay there wrapped up in warmth and each other. A cheesy line echoed from the TV, something dramatic like “I’d cross the universe just to see your smile.”

You snorted. “Wow. He really just said that.”

Jongho chuckled, resting his chin lightly on your head. “You don’t want me to say stuff like that to you?”

You looked up at him with a smirk. “If you said it, I’d think you hit your head.”

He feigned offense, placing a hand over his heart. “Wow. So you’re saying I’m not romantic?”

“I’m saying you’re more of a ‘Here, I brought you snacks and stole your blanket’ type of romantic.”

He grinned. “Guilty. But hey, actions speak louder than overused space metaphors.”

You laughed, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “Fair enough. You’re my favorite kind of romantic anyway.”

He beamed at that, tightening his arms around you just a little.

Another overly dramatic scene played out on screen, and he whispered, “You think if I started reciting monologues like that, you’d swoon?”

You gave him a look. “You’d trip over the first sentence.”

“Probably,” he said with a soft laugh. “But I’d trip with passion.”

You shook your head, smiling as you snuggled back into him. “Dork.”

“Your dork.”

The movie kept rolling, full of cliché misunderstandings and grand romantic gestures, but somehow it just worked—especially with Jongho’s steady warmth wrapped around you and the rain still pattering softly outside.

At one point, the main couple on screen kissed under a perfectly timed fireworks display. You both blinked at the scene.

“That’s so unrealistic,” you muttered, grabbing another piece of chocolate. “Fireworks don’t just show up when you’re having a moment.”

Jongho shrugged. “Maybe they would if you had a bigger budget.”

You giggled. “Oh, so that’s why we’ve never kissed under fireworks.”

He leaned in, brushing his nose against yours with a lazy smile. “We could make it happen. Just need a lighter, some sparklers, and maybe no fire safety laws.”

You gasped dramatically. “Jongho!”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” he laughed, holding up his hands. “No laws will be broken in the name of love… probably.”

You both fell into soft laughter again, your bodies pressed close beneath the blankets. Somewhere between scenes, your fingers found his and laced together naturally, like muscle memory.

Eventually, the movie dipped into a quiet montage, and your eyes felt heavier. The chocolate was nearly gone, your cramps were slightly more bearable, and Jongho’s steady breathing beside you made you feel like the world could stop spinning for a while—and you wouldn’t mind at all.

He looked down at you and whispered, “Feeling any better?”

You nodded; eyes still half-closed. “Yeah… thanks to you.”

“Good,” he said, brushing his thumb over your hand. “That’s my job.”

The movie ended, the credits rolling quietly in the background, casting a soft glow across the room. You didn’t bother turning it off. Neither of you moved, tangled up in warmth, the world outside still whispering with rain.

Jongho shifted slightly, just enough to glance down at you. “You still awake?”

“Mmm,” you hummed, barely.

“Can I ask you something?”

You opened your eyes a little, just enough to meet his. “You can ask me anything.”

He paused for a second, like he was choosing his words carefully. “Do you ever think about the future? Like… where we’ll be? What we’ll be doing?”

You blinked slowly, not expecting that—but not surprised either. Jongho had a quiet way of opening up in the dark, when everything felt a little more real.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “Sometimes I think about that a lot.”

He smiled softly. “What do you see?”

You took a breath, letting your head rest fully against his chest. “I see… lazy mornings. Matching pajamas. You still stealing my blankets. Maybe a tiny apartment with too many pillows and plants. And us—still doing this. Still choosing each other.”

Jongho was quiet for a moment, like he was holding onto every word.

“I like that,” he said finally. “That sounds… really good.”

You looked up at him. “What do you see?”

He looked down at you, eyes gentle. “Same. Just… you. Always you. No matter where or what.”

Your heart swelled a little, and you reached up to brush your fingers along his jaw. “You’re such a softie.”

“Only for you,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss your forehead.

The room fell quiet again, the kind of silence that felt safe and full. You both laid there for a while, speaking now and then in sleepy whispers, until eventually, words faded, and dreams took over—two hearts beating slow and steady beneath the weight of shared warmth.

About an hour later, you stirred. Your stomach gave a quiet protest, reminding you that chocolate wasn’t exactly dinner. You rubbed your eyes, blinking into the dim light of the room, then looked over at Jongho.

He was completely out, arms still wrapped tightly around you, one leg shamelessly stealing most of the blanket. His cheek was squished slightly against the pillow, mouth parted just a bit. Peaceful. Adorable. Slightly blanket-thieving.

You reached out and gently poked his cheek. “Babe…”

No response.

You poked again, a little firmer this time. “I’m hungry.”

This time, his eyes fluttered open just a sliver. He looked at you, bleary and half-dreaming, voice low and raspy. “Already?”

“Yes. My stomach is literally staging a protest,” you whispered, dramatically placing your hand over your belly.

He closed his eyes again like he was about to drift right back off. “Mm. Just… eat more chocolate.”

You gasped. “Jongho.”

He let out a tired chuckle, eyes still closed. “Okay, okay. Give me like… three minutes. Or carry me to the kitchen.”

You laughed softly, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “You’re lucky you’re cute. Now move, or I will take your card and order takeout—for myself only.”

That earned a dramatic groan as he finally began to sit up, dragging the blanket with him like a reluctant little burrito. “Don’t waste all my money,” he mumbled, voice still thick with sleep.

You snickered, already grabbing your phone. “Too late.” You stuck your tongue out at him playfully as you opened your food delivery app.

He squinted at you, clearly betrayed. “You’re actually doing it?”

“Yup,” you said with a grin, scrolling through options. “Gonna get the good stuff, too. Extra sides. Maybe a dessert. All for me.”

Jongho flopped back onto the bed dramatically. “This is how I die. Starved. Wallet empty. Betrayed by love.”

You giggled, poking his side. “You can still save yourself. Get up and help me order food?”

He peeked up at you, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Hmm… will there be noodles?”

“There will be whatever your sleepy heart desires.”

That got him moving—slowly, but with purpose. “Alright, fine. Let’s order before you add a second dessert.”

You grinned. “Too late.”

Jongho groaned in fake defeat, but finally sat up properly. You handed him your phone so he could order something for himself too. He scrolled lazily, adding a few things to the cart before placing the order with a sleepy flourish.

“Boom. Nourishment on the way,” he said, dropping your phone back onto the bed.

While you waited, you flopped down across his lap with a content sigh, snuggling into him without hesitation. Your arms wrapped around his waist, and your face found the perfect spot against his chest.

“You’re so soft,” you murmured, practically melting into him. “Why don’t you wear this every time you come over?”

Jongho let out a little laugh, resting his hand on your back. “Because if I did, you’d never let me leave.”

“Exactly,” you hummed, nuzzling deeper into the plush fabric of his bear-print pajamas. “You get it now.”

He chuckled, his fingers tracing gentle patterns across your back. “You just love me for the pajamas, huh?”

You looked up at him with a mock-serious face. “Don’t be silly. It’s the whole package. But the pajamas definitely secure your spot as the world’s most huggable boyfriend.”

He smirked, clearly pleased. “Good. I’m honored.”

You stayed there in silence for a while, tangled up in warmth and soft fabric, your breathing syncing with his, the wait for food becoming less important than just… this.

Just as you were about to drift off again in the safety of his arms, the doorbell rang, followed by the telltale buzz of the delivery arriving.

Jongho groaned dramatically. “Nooo, don’t make me move.”

You chuckled against his chest. “You're the one who ordered food too, remember?”

He sighed, his hand still lazily rubbing your back. “I regret everything.”

With a playful push, you sat up. “C’mon, we suffer together.”

He grumbled, but eventually peeled himself off the bed, heading to the door. You trailed behind, grabbing his hoodie and throwing it over you.

He returned triumphantly with two warm bags in his hands, a sleepy grin on his face. “Behold—our feast.”

“Oooh,” you cooed, eyes lighting up as the smell hit you. “Bless the delivery gods.”

You both settled on the couch with the food spread out between you—ramen, dumplings, some crispy chicken, and a sweet dessert you definitely didn’t need but definitely wanted.

As you both started eating, you nudged him playfully with your knee. “See? Nighttime kitchen date vibes, no effort required.”

Jongho smiled, mouth full. “This is better. You, me, food, pajamas. Perfect night.”

You raised your drink in a tiny toast. “To soft bear boys and stolen desserts.”

He clinked his bottle lightly against yours. “And to you stealing my heart and my hoodie.”

You grinned. “Get used to it.”

After the food was devoured, the wrappers crumpled, and your bellies were happily full, the two of you returned to the bedroom in a quiet, satisfied daze. Jongho flopped onto the bed first, limbs spread out like a starfish.

You followed, dragging the blanket with you as you climbed in beside him, immediately curling into his side like it was second nature.

“Okay,” you mumbled, resting your head on his shoulder, “next time I say I want to go out, remind me that nights like this exist.”

He smiled, fingers brushing lazily through your hair. “Deal. I like when you stay in like this… with me.”

A peaceful silence settled between you, broken only by the soft hum of the rain still tapping at the window. Your hands found his again, fingers intertwining easily.

“Do you ever think about… like, us moving in together?” you asked quietly, your voice soft and sleepy.

Jongho turned his head a little, looking down at you. “All the time.”

You blinked, surprised by how quickly he answered.

“I already know what drawer you’d steal,” he continued with a little smile. “You’d fill the fridge with too much iced coffee and hoard all the fluffy socks. But… I think I’d love that.”

You felt your heart flutter, warmth blooming in your chest.

“Would we fight over the blanket?” you asked, lifting a brow playfully.

He smirked. “Obviously. But I’d let you win. Most of the time.”

“Most?” you teased.

“Hey, I need at least a corner,” he laughed.

You buried your face into his chest again, grinning. “I’d give you two.”

“Generous,” he whispered, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

A yawn escaped you as your eyes started to grow heavy again. “You’re my favorite person, you know that?”

He pulled you closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know. You’re mine too.”

And just like that, under dim lights and the soft rhythm of falling rain, you drifted off in his arms—full, warm, safe, and completely loved.

---

Morning sunlight peeked in through the curtains, casting a warm, golden hue across the room. The rain had stopped sometime during the night, leaving the air quiet and still, like the world was holding its breath just for the two of you.

You stirred first, blinking slowly as you adjusted to the light. Your body was wrapped in warmth—arms around your waist, legs tangled with yours, and the familiar sound of Jongho’s soft breathing right next to your ear.

You smiled sleepily, taking in the way his hair was a little messy, how his brows were relaxed, peaceful in a way that made your chest ache a little in the best way.

You shifted just enough to face him, brushing your fingers lightly along his jaw. He stirred a bit, then cracked one eye open.

“Mmm… morning,” he rasped, voice low and sleepy.

“Morning,” you whispered back, nose barely brushing his. “You snored.”

He let out a lazy laugh. “Lies.”

“Truth. I have audio evidence,” you teased.

He groaned and buried his face in your neck. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“I know,” you said smugly, stroking his hair. “You wanna sleep more or get breakfast?”

He stayed quiet for a moment before mumbling into your skin, “Can we just stay like this? Like... ten more minutes?”

You closed your eyes, letting the rhythm of his breathing lull you again. “Ten minutes.”

But both of you knew you’d stay like that for much longer wrapped up in morning stillness, in each other, with nowhere else to be.

Until the ache returned.

You shifted with a quiet whimper, curling into yourself as the cramps made their unwelcome comeback. The warmth and softness of the moment faded just slightly under the pressure in your lower stomach, and you let out a soft groan.

Jongho immediately stirred, his senses tuned to you even in half-sleep. He sat up a little, brushing your hair back gently. “You alright? Do you need more medicine?”

You nodded softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah… they’re back.”

He was already climbing out of bed without hesitation, stretching his arms with a small yawn before padding over to your bag and rummaging through it for the painkillers. He returned with them in one hand and a bottle of water in the other, sitting back down beside you.

“Here,” he murmured, helping you sit up enough to take them. You swallowed the pills and sipped the water slowly, leaning into his side as he held the bottle steady.

He wrapped his arms around you gently after, tucking your head under his chin. “We’ll just rest a little longer. I’ll be your human heating pad again.”

You chuckled weakly against his chest. “Best heating pad ever.”

He kissed the top of your head. “That’s right. Comes with hugs, snacks, and amazing singing voice. Limited edition.”

You sighed, settling into him again. Even through the discomfort, having him there made it all feel manageable. Safe.

“I really love you, you know,” you murmured.

He smiled, pressing his cheek to your hair. “I know. I love you more.”

----------------

A little while later, once the meds started to ease the pain and you felt steady enough to move, Jongho gently helped you out of bed. You still wore the blanket around your shoulders like a cape, and he tossed you a knowing smile.

“You look like a sleepy queen,” he teased, reaching for your hand.

You smirked. “Then make me a royal breakfast, peasant.”

He gasped dramatically. “The disrespect,” he said, but still bowed low before leading you toward the kitchen.

The morning light poured softly through the windows, filling the space with a golden warmth. It smelled like quiet—like home. You sat at the small table, pulling the blanket tighter around you, while Jongho got to work at the stove, humming under his breath.

You watched him from your spot—barefoot in his bear pajamas, hair still a little messy, moving around like he’d done this a hundred times. Maybe he had.

He peeked over his shoulder. “Toast, eggs, and fruit, okay?”

“Perfect,” you said softly, resting your chin in your hands.

A few minutes later, he brought over two plates. Simple, but warm and made with love. He even sliced the strawberries into hearts—badly, but the intention made you melt.

You grinned, picking one up. “These are definitely trying to be hearts.”

He chuckled. “They’re emotionally accurate.”

You both ate slowly, savoring the calm between bites. No rush. No background noise. Just the occasional clink of forks and the soft brush of his foot nudging yours under the table.

When he caught you staring at him mid-bite, he tilted his head. “What?”

“Nothing,” you said with a sleepy smile. “Just… I like mornings with you.”

He reached across the table, taking your hand in his. “Good. Because you’re getting a lot more of them.”

After finishing breakfast, the two of you sat there for a while longer, basking in the sunlight spilling across the table. Neither of you made a move to clean up just yet. There was no rush. No plans. Just the quiet, comforting presence of each other.

Jongho stretched with a low groan, arms reaching toward the ceiling before collapsing dramatically back into his chair. “Okay, I vote we do absolutely nothing productive today.”

You raised a brow. “Nothing?”

“Absolutely nothing,” he confirmed. “Except maybe snacks. And cuddles. And binge-watching shows we’ve already seen three times.”

You leaned back in your chair, arms crossed with a fake-serious look. “And if the world ends while we’re lying on the couch watching reruns?”

He shrugged with a grin. “At least we’ll go out wrapped in a blanket burrito together.”

You laughed, already imagining how the rest of the day would go. “Fine. Lazy day officially approved.”

The two of you cleaned up the dishes at a snail’s pace—playful bickering over who washed and who dried, ending with you both flicking soap bubbles at each other like children.

Once the kitchen was clear, it was straight back to the couch. You claimed your usual corner, and Jongho joined you with the blanket and a bowl of snacks. You flipped through streaming services before settling on an old favorite—the kind of show where you could quote every line, but it never stopped being comforting.

He wrapped an arm around you as you curled up into his side again, warm and safe. The world outside moved on, but your little bubble stayed still.

Between episodes, you talked about everything and nothing—dream vacations, what kind of pets you’d have one day, and what your “dream couch” would look like if you ever moved in together.

Eventually, his fingers started absentmindedly combing through your hair, and your eyelids grew heavier with each slow, rhythmic pass.

“You falling asleep?” he asked softly, his voice like a warm breeze.

“Mmm… maybe,” you mumbled, the tiniest smile playing on your lips. “Maybe singing will help me stay awake.”

He sighed, knowing full well you were already halfway to dreamland. But he didn’t call you out on it. Instead, his fingers kept their slow, soothing pattern, and after a moment, he started to sing—softly, just above a whisper.

It was one of your favorites. A quiet love song, something gentle and nostalgic, the kind of melody that wrapped around your heart like a blanket. His voice was low and warm, slightly raspy from sleep, but full of emotion.

You didn’t say anything—you couldn’t. You were already sinking, breath slowing, heart softening with every note. His chest rose and fell beneath your cheek, his voice vibrating gently against you like a lullaby made just for this moment.

By the time he reached the end of the second verse, your breathing had deepened, steady and peaceful. You were asleep, fully and completely, wrapped in his arms with a tiny smile still on your face.

Jongho looked down at you and let out the softest chuckle, brushing his fingers lightly across your cheek.

“Yeah,” he whispered, still holding you close. “That’s what I thought.”

He adjusted the blanket around you, kissed your forehead, and pulled you in a little tighter—his voice fading into hums as he let the rest of the day pass by with you, right there where you belonged.

The sky outside had shifted from bright morning light to that soft, golden hue that only came in the early evening—like the sun was trying to say goodbye as gently as possible.

You stirred a little, slowly waking in the quiet hush of the living room. The soft glow from the setting sun spilled across the floor, catching in the folds of the blanket still wrapped around you.

Jongho was still there, arms cradling you, his chin resting lightly on your head as he scrolled through his phone with one hand. He noticed your little shift instantly.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” he murmured, his voice warm like everything else around you. “How was your nap?”

You yawned, eyes barely open as you tilted your head to look at him. “Perfect. You didn’t move.”

“Of course not,” he said, brushing a thumb gently along your arm. “You were too comfortable.”

You sat up slowly, stretching your arms and blinking into the amber light. “What time is it?”

“Almost seven,” he replied. “The sky’s putting on a show for us.”

You turned toward the window, catching the soft pinks and oranges bleeding across the horizon. “Wow… it’s pretty.”

He stood and held out a hand. “Come watch it with me from the balcony?”

You took it, letting him guide you out. The cool air kissed your skin, but he pulled you close, wrapping the blanket around both your shoulders as you leaned against the railing together.

No words were needed for a few minutes. Just the quiet of the city winding down, the birds calling out somewhere far away, and the shared silence of two people completely at peace.

After a while, he leaned down, resting his forehead against yours.

“You know,” he said softly, “I could do this every day. Just… us. Lazy mornings. Quiet evenings. Everything in between.”

You smiled, fingers curling into his hoodie. “Me too.”

And as the last bit of sunlight dipped beneath the skyline, the two of you stood there—wrapped in warmth, wrapped in love—already dreaming about doing it all over again tomorrow.

Jongho let out a small sigh, voice low against the hush of evening. “I should probably get going soon… I’ve got work in the morning.”

Your face immediately dropped, and you tightened your arms around him like a koala. “Nooo…” you whined, clinging to him dramatically. “Just stay forever. Call in sick. Say you’ve been trapped by a very persuasive blanket monster.”

He chuckled, burying his face into your shoulder. “Tempting. Very tempting. I don’t think my boss would buy it, though.”

“She clearly lacks imagination,” you mumbled into his hoodie. “Or a heart.”

Jongho pulled back just enough to look at you, brushing your hair gently behind your ear. “I’ll come back as soon as I’m off. Maybe bring dinner?”

Your pout softened. “Promise?”

He smiled, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Promise. Same time tomorrow. Bear pajamas and all.”

You sighed, still reluctant but slowly letting go, your arms lingering around his waist. “Okay… but I’m making you take the leftover snacks as emotional compensation.”

“I accept,” he said with a grin, grabbing the bag with a dramatic bow. “Payment received. Heart slightly less shattered.”

You walked him to the door, still wrapped in the blanket, watching as he put on his shoes with exaggerated slowness.

“Text me when you get home,” you said.

He looked up and nodded. “You know I will.”

And with one last soft kiss, he stepped out into the night, leaving the door just a little ajar—like a promise he’d be back soon.

You stood there for a moment in the quiet, hugging the blanket closer. And though you missed him already, your heart felt full.

But once you stepped back inside, the warmth started to fade. The cramps crept in again, dull and stubborn, and your body just couldn’t pretend to be okay anymore. You made your way straight to bed, gathering your snacks like little emotional lifelines, and climbed under the covers without a second thought.

You tried to distract yourself, maybe scroll on your phone or open a show again—but the loneliness settled in faster than you expected. The ache wasn’t just physical—it was that sudden, hollow feeling of missing someone the second they’re gone, even if they were just there.

Tears started to prick at your eyes before you could stop them. You wiped them away roughly with the sleeve of your hoodie.

“Damn, I hate my month,” you muttered, voice shaky. You pulled the plushie Jongho had given you into your arms, clutching it tight against your chest. It still smelled like him.

You didn’t want to cry. You really didn’t. But the combo of pain, hormones, and missing him cracked you open just enough.

Then your phone buzzed.

Seconds later, your phone started to ring.

You answered without hesitation, already hearing Jongho’s voice on the other end—his tone animated and buzzing with excitement.

“You won’t believe it!” he blurted.

You sat up slightly, wincing as the cramps flared again, clutching a pillow to your stomach for a little comfort. Your voice came out tired, but you tried your best to sound engaged. “What…”

There was a pause—just long enough for you to hear the smile in his voice. “Right as I got home, my manager called. Someone offered to trade shifts with me. I’m off tomorrow.”

You blinked, processing. “…Wait. Seriously?”

He couldn’t hold in his laugh anymore. “Dead serious.”

Your heart skipped, and you immediately whined through the phone. “Then what are you doing?! Come back!”

“I’m already halfway into my hoodie again,” he teased. “Was just waiting for you to say it.”

You buried your face into the pillow with a muffled squeal. “Hurry up. I’m dying.”

“I’ll be there in twenty,” he said gently. “Blanket burrito prep ready?”

You smiled through the ache, relief washing over you. “I never unwrapped.”

“Perfect. Your emotional support bear is on the way.”

He hung up, and you stared at your phone for a second, heart swelling. Despite the pain, despite the tears—you suddenly felt so much lighter.

You whispered to your plushie, “Knew it, your father wouldn’t leave me like that.”

And sure enough, barely fifteen minutes later, the door quietly opened again—and there he was, hoodie slightly crooked, hair wind-tossed, arms full of snacks and an extra heating pad.

“Reporting for snuggle duty,” he said with a sleepy grin.

“Great,” you mumbled, already pulling him toward the bed like he belonged there—because he did. “You’re not allowed to leave me again. You’re locked and trapped in here until snuggle season is over.”

Jongho laughed as he climbed in, letting you tug him into your arms like a giant teddy bear. “Snuggle season is year-round, babe. Guess I live here now.”

“Exactly,” you whispered, kissing his cheek before nuzzling into the crook of his neck. You gently intertwined your fingers with his, both of your hands resting comfortably between you. The tension in your body was already melting away—his presence, his warmth, grounding you completely.

He hummed softly, content. After a moment, he tilted his head slightly to look down at you. “I can go pick us up food if you want… or try to cook something.”

You let out a soft breath, eyes fluttering closed as you held onto him a little tighter. “Mmm… tempting, but you just got back. Let’s just stay like this for a little bit.”

“I can work with that,” he said quietly, squeezing your hand.

And so, you stayed wrapped up together in that warm, quiet moment—no rush, no plans, just soft breaths and steady hearts, safe in each other’s arms as the night gently folded in around you.

After a few quiet minutes of cozy silence, your stomach grumbled just loud enough to make you both laugh softly. You sat up and poked Jongho’s cheek with intention.

“I’m hungry now,” you declared, eyes locked on him with faux seriousness. “I crave chicken.”

He blinked up at you from where he was still laying, voice soft and amused. “Fried chicken?”

You nodded eagerly; your energy suddenly very real. “Yes. Extra crispy. Extra juicy. Maybe spicy.”

He sighed with a small, fond smile, already reaching for his phone. “I knew peace wouldn’t last long.”

You beamed. “Chicken cravings never sleep.”

Jongho sat up slowly, groaning dramatically like a man on a noble mission. “I’ll go pick it up.”

You watched as he stood, slipping his shoes back on and grabbing his hoodie from where he left it. “You sure? I can come with you.”

He looked over his shoulder, already pulling the hood up. “Nope. You stay warm. Blanket queen duties. I’ll return with treasure.”

You giggled, flopping back into bed dramatically. “Bring back enough for both of us and maybe dessert and also maybe your undying loyalty.”

And with that, he slipped out the door again, hoodie-clad and boyfriend-of-the-year, ready to conquer the chicken gods—for you.

Left in the warm quiet of your room, you grabbed your phone and flopped back against the pillows, opening YouTube for a bit of comfort scrolling. You quickly spiraled into a collection of chaotic cat videos—tiny paws knocking over expensive vases, dramatic leaps ending in disaster, cats yowling at cucumbers like they’d seen a ghost. The laughter was exactly what you needed.

After a few videos (and a few giggles), you glanced at the time and stretched, letting out a satisfied sigh. The cramps had dulled a bit, and you could feel your skin starting to crave that clean, refreshed feeling.

You stood up and padded toward the bathroom, deciding a quick shower would do the trick—something about washing off the heaviness of the day, even if it had been filled with love and chicken cravings.

The water was warm and soothing, wrapping around you like a soft reset. You let it wash over your shoulders, taking a deep breath and letting it all go—the pain, the frustration, the stress. It was just you, the sound of the water, and the comfort of knowing someone who loved you was out picking up your favorite meal.

You stepped out of the shower feeling lighter, wrapping yourself in a towel and moving slowly back to your room, already smelling faint hints of soap and calm. You changed into clean pajamas, fluffier socks, and threw your hair up messily, still damp but cozy.

Just as you flopped back onto your bed, Jongho texted you telling you he got the stuff, and he was at the door.

The second he stepped in, the smell of crispy, golden fried chicken filled the air, and your stomach growled like it was announcing his arrival.

He walked into the room like a hero returning from battle, carrying the sacred bags of food and setting them down triumphantly on your bed.

“Thank you!” you beamed, immediately reaching for the warm box of chicken and sides. You opened it up with reverence—crispy pieces, golden fries, dipping sauces, everything your heart and soul needed in that moment.

But then—betrayal.

Your eyes caught the sight of something else in his hands. A chicken sandwich. You blinked. “Hey! You didn’t offer me one!”

He looked at you, feigning innocence. “You wanted normal chicken!”

“That’s not the point!” you gasped, dramatically pointing at the sandwich like it personally offended you.

He smirked and took a bite right in front of you. “Mmm. Delicious.”

You gave him your best playful glare, narrowed eyes and everything. Then, without warning, you pounced—tackling him down into the blankets, reaching for the sandwich like it was a prize in a survival game.

“You got a whole box! Ten pieces!” you shouted, laughing. “I just want a bite!”

“I only got one sandwich!” he laughed back, trying to hold it out of your reach as you climbed over him, grabbing his arm and leaning in, mouth open and ready.

“I will fight you for it, Jongho.”

“You’re already fighting me!” he cried out, half-laughing, half-dramatic. “This is a betrayal of peace!”

You managed a quick bite before he twisted away, groaning like you’d mortally wounded him.

“Mmm,” you said, chewing slowly. “That’s so good. Thanks for sharing, babe.”

“You’re a menace,” he muttered, flopping back with a dramatic sigh.

“And yet you love me.”

He looked up at you with a tired grin. “Yeah. That’s the problem.”

After the dramatic battle of the sandwich came to a truce (with you getting one more smug bite), the two of you finally sat up, breathless and giggling.

“Okay, okay,” Jongho said, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye from laughing so hard. “Truce. No more food wars.”

You held up your pinky. “Pinky promise.”

He linked his with yours. “Until the next time you eye my fries.”

“No promises there,” you grinned.

You both finally focused on the feast in front of you—steaming pieces of crispy chicken, golden fries, coleslaw, dipping sauces, and drinks that had already started to sweat from the condensation.

The room quieted down except for the soft rustle of wrappers and the occasional mmm of pure fried chicken satisfaction. You both sat cross-legged on the bed, passing sauces back and forth, trading bites here and there, and just enjoying the calm after the storm.

“This is dangerously good,” you mumbled, licking a bit of sauce off your finger. “I might cry again, but for totally different reasons.”

“Cramps who?” Jongho teased, sipping his drink. “Chicken heals all.”

You nodded solemnly. “Amen.”

He looked at you as you happily munched on a fry and smiled, eyes soft. “You look really cute right now, by the way.”

You paused mid-bite. “Covered in crumbs and sitting in a pile of napkins?”

“Exactly my type,” he said with a wink.

You leaned over and kissed his cheek again. “You’re so lucky I like you.”

“You are right, what would you do without me.” he said, poking your side.

The rest of the meal passed in peaceful silence, soft laughs here and there, your legs bumping under the blankets as the warmth of the food settled in. The chaos faded. The pain dulled. And all that was left was the cozy contentment of being full—of food, of love, of the kind of comfort that only comes from being with your person.

“Do you have the games I left here when I stayed over last week? I want to play,” Jongho asked, already getting up and poking around your movie shelf like a man on a mission.

“Maybe,” you said, voice muffled as you cozied deeper into the blanket pile. “They might still be on the desk; I haven’t really been up and productive this last week.”

He turned, one brow raised. “Wow. You just started your period and you’ve been lazy this entire week?”

You gasped, scandalized.

“Excuse me?!”

He grinned at you with that smug, teasing expression, and that was all it took—you grabbed the nearest pillow and hurled it directly at his face.

“You take that back!” you cried dramatically, already reaching for a second one.

The first pillow hit him squarely in the chest. He caught it with a laugh, holding it like a trophy. “I’m just saying! Some people run marathons before their period. You turned into a blanket burrito for five days straight!”

“I am the marathon!” you shouted, launching the second pillow with pinpoint accuracy. “A marathon of feelings and cravings!”

He dodged it with a playful jump, hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay! I yield! I take it back!”

You flopped back into your mountain of blankets, huffing like a queen who just won a war.

“That’s what I thought,” you mumbled, grabbing a piece of leftover chicken like a victory snack.

Jongho laughed, shaking his head as he finally found the game case sitting on your desk. “Alright, lazy legend. Let’s see if your gaming skills are better than your aim.”

You smirked. “Careful. You’re dangerously close to losing your sandwich rights again.”

He popped the game into the console, grinning. “Fair warning—if I win, I’m taking the rest of your fries.”

“Oh, it’s on, chicken thief.” You launched another pillow with zero hesitation.

“You’re the chicken thief!” Jongho shouted back, dodging as he grabbed a pillow and hurled it right back at you.

It hit you with a soft whump, and you squealed, laughter bubbling out of you as you ducked behind your blanket like it was a shield.

“Well, you should’ve bought me one!” you shot back, tossing the pillow again with all the dramatic flair of someone defending their honor.

But this time, Jongho was ready.

He caught it mid-air with an impressive one-handed grab, eyes gleaming with mock triumph. “That’s it.”

“No, no, wait—” you giggled, already trying to scramble back—but it was too late.

With a playful growl, he tackled you gently onto the bed, pressing the pillow over you before flopping down right on top of you like a giant, smug weighted blanket.

“Victory!” he declared, fully laying across you, pinning you down with exaggerated drama.

You laughed so hard you could barely breathe, squirming beneath him. “You’re so heavy!”

“It’s not weight, it’s dominance,” he said proudly, grinning down at you.

“You are such a menace,” you huffed, still giggling as your hands tried to push him off.

He finally shifted just enough to look at you, brushing a bit of hair from your face, his grin softening into something gentler. “And you love me anyway.”

You gave him your most playful eye-roll… then smiled up at him, breathless. “Unfortunately.”

He leaned down and kissed the tip of your nose. “Lucky me.”

As Jongho finally rolled off of you, both of you still catching your breath from the laughter and chaos, the room settled again into that familiar, comfortable quiet.

Without needing to say anything, he pulled you close, and you naturally curled into his side, your head resting against his chest, legs tangled together beneath the blankets.

His hand found yours again, fingers slipping into place like they were made to be there. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head and let out a peaceful sigh.

You closed your eyes for a moment, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, the warmth of his hoodie, the comfort of being home—not the physical place, but the person.

“I wish it could be like this forever,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

Jongho didn’t answer right away. He just held you a little tighter.

“Me too,” he finally said. “And maybe… one day, it will be.”

You smiled softly, heart full, letting that thought linger in the air between you—warm, hopeful, and real.

No more words were needed. Just the two of you, wrapped in each other, in laughter, in love—and in the quiet wish that moments like this would never end.

•

A/N: So, I cried writing this :( I love this man so much. I know he is more "stoic" but let me dream here. 😭

#ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #jongho fanfic #jongho x reader #choi jongho x reader #jongho scenarios #jongho fluff #jongho #jongho soft hours #ateez soft hours #ateez soft thoughts #ateez fic #ateez jongho #ateez scenario

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